


your wonder under summer skies

by LetItRaines



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Smut, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 71,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetItRaines/pseuds/LetItRaines
Summary: Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 712
Kudos: 486





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is thanks to wanting a good, fun summer story to help ease some of the weight of the world off everyone's shoulders, if only for twenty minutes. I hope that you are giving yourself a mental break from everything and that you still find things that bring you joy 💕

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Oh, come on. You’re being ridiculous!”

Emma scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. He’s got to be kidding. If not, she’s about two seconds away from losing her mind. Or punching him. one of the two. “Ridiculous? How the hell is this being ridiculous?”

“I’m working with my dad, Ems,” Neal sighs with a roll of his eyes. “You act like it’s the end of the world.”

He doesn’t get it. Oh my God, he really doesn’t get it.

After all of this time, how does he not?

“It’s not the end of the world,” Emma admits even as she grits her teeth, “but it’s also you going back on everything we agreed on! You’re not supposed to work with your dad. He’s into some shady as hell stuff. No one knows what it is, but we all know that most of it can’t be legal. No one lives in a mansion like that by owning a pawn shop in a town this size.”

“It’s family money.”

“Bullshit.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because I’ve known you for five years, and you’ve lived in shitty apartments and driven even shittier cars for almost all of that time. But without fail, you get into a bind, go spend time with your dad for the two of you to “make up”, and magically you have money to fix everything. It doesn’t take a genius to put it together. For the past year, you’ve been in a nice car and haven’t struggled to pay for anything.”

Neal groans and turns on his heels, walking toward the kitchen before moving back and stepping closer to her. She takes two steps back.

“I work at a car dealership now, Ems. They give me a good deal.” He’s avoiding the conversation, and really, maybe she should do the same thing. Maybe it’s not worth having another fight with Neal over this. They have enough other problems without having to focus on this. Maybe she should just accept that this is how it is. “Maybe if you had parents to help get you out of a bind, you’d understand that there’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

He didn’t slap her, but there’s still a sting across her cheek.

What the fuck?

He did not just say that. Did he actually just throw her parents in her face like that? What kind of an asshole move is that?

It’s a Neal move.

And she’s damn tired of it. This isn’t how this is supposed to be. This is not how it’s supposed to be. In the back of her mind, she knows that, knows that she deserves better than this. It’s supposed to be like David and Mary Margaret or Ariel and Eric. It’s not…it’s not this.

It’s not someone she loves using her heartbreak against her.

Emma slaps Neal.

It’s hard, and it stings her hand in the aftershock, but it’s so damn satisfying that she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care that it was a dumbass decision and that Neal could retaliate sometime. It won’t get physical. She knows that. She also knows him well enough to know that things like this very rarely fly under the radar with him.

God, she’s been such an idiot to stay with him like she has.

Why does she keep doing this to herself?

“What the fuck?” Neal seethes as he drags his fingers across his face and spits at her feet. “What the fuck was that, Emma?”

“That was what you deserved for using my parents to hurt me, for working with your dad again, and for sleeping with the damn waitress at Granny’s.”

“I didn’t sleep with Ruby.”

He is an idiot.

But she’s the bigger one for staying with him.

“Ruby isn’t the only waitress at Granny’s.” Emma’s shaking with anger, unexpected sadness creeping up behind it and trying to overwhelm her, but she manages to step forward until she’s eye-to-eye with Neal. She doesn’t even know if she recognizes him anymore because there is no way this is the man she fell in love with. “Maybe next time you decide to fuck around, don’t do it with a woman who works in the same place as my best friend.”

He blinks, and she thinks it’s over. Hell, she knows that it’s over, but then he smiles. “C’mon, Ems. It was one time.”

Lie.

She knows it’s been more than one, and yet she’s still standing here.

Stupid.

So, so stupid.

“You and I both know I can tell when you’re lying.”

“You’ve always thought you had that superpower or whatever, but I’ve never believed it.” He gets even closer and tries to soften his smile, his boyish features becoming more prominent and is eyes filling with kindness. “She doesn’t mean anything to me. You do. I love you.”

Lie.

That’s a lie, too.

He wouldn’t do this to her if he loved her, right?

(God, she hopes that if someone loves her, they wouldn’t cheat.)

“Then you should have acted like it. We’re done. I’m not putting up with your shit anymore.”

“Ems – ”

“No. Just no.”

All she wants is to get out of there. This apartment is suffocating, and she’s in desperate need of air so her lungs won’t collapse. But she’s also got some of her stuff there that she doesn’t want to leave in Neal’s hands, so she walks back to the bedroom and grabs an overnight bag and starts stuffing her clothes and her books inside. She grabs everything that’s hers and hers alone as Neal follows her around giving pathetic excuses for everything.

He’s sorry, he says.

She doesn’t care.

(She does.)

He’ll be better for her, he says.

She doesn’t believe him.

(For a moment, she wants to.)

“Fuck you, Neal,” Emma says without any noticeable tone in her voice. That surprises her. She doesn’t know how she’s not shaking with tears. She reaches up and unclasps a necklace from her neck. It’s a damn keychain. She used to treasure it. Not anymore. “Maybe you can get some money for this at your dad’s shop. Or maybe you can give it to Tamara since you seem to like her so much.”

And then she slams the door behind her.

It’s an adrenaline rush she hasn’t experienced before. God, she should have. She’s been in this situation far more times than she’d ever admit to anyone else, but it’s never felt this final.

It’s never felt this good.

Oh shit.

She needs that air bow.

She can’t breathe.

All it took was five seconds for her to fall apart, and she will not cry in his hallway. She will not let him see her like this.

Neal did not break her, and Emma won’t let him think that he did.

(She won’t let herself think that, not again.)

So she jogs to her car, throws her bag in the passenger seat, and she drives until she can get her breathing under control. It’s difficult, especially when her throat keeps getting clogged up, but no tears fall from her eyes. Maybe she didn’t need to cry. Maybe she simply needed to get out of a suffocating environment.

How many years of her life did she waste on that asshole?

No, she won’t go there. She can’t. Where she will go is the beach because that’s apparently where she’s ended up driving.

How did that even happen? She must have zoned out and let her body take control. The fact that she didn’t crash on the way here seems like a miracle.

Emma turns the key in her bug, grabs her phone, and gets out of the car.

The beach is quiet, but it’s only the middle of May. Schools are still in session, and families haven’t started flooding in for their vacations. It’s weird, but it’s also the last moment of peace Storybrooke is going to have until October rolls around and the place is a ghost town again.

The highs and lows of living in a coastal town whose entire purpose is catering to people in the summer months. She should probably call Mary Margaret and make sure they’ve got all of the vendors set up for when families start sending their kids off to the two of them for the entire day. They also need to get permission to use the ballroom for the charity dinner for Storybrooke Children’s Shelter, but that’s months from now and they only need the ballroom if it rains. Focusing on that really shouldn’t be what Emma is concentrating on.

But then maybe it is. Because if she focuses on work and not her personal life, then maybe her personal life won’t seem so ridiculously shitty.

Who is she kidding?

Her personal life is probably the shittiest.

When she gets to the end of the boardwalk, she reaches down to take off her sandals and hold them in her hand as her feet sink into the softness of the sand. It’s warmer than she expected it to be, but she’s not going to complain as some of the stress of her day washes itself away as she watches the ocean water drift in and out, leaving white foam to sink into the ground.

It’s her favorite thing in the world.

Maybe that’s why she ended up here.

Emma sighs and starts walking, letting her feet get covered by the water with each step. She hasn’t done this in far too long. She’s not let herself spend her time outside, even for her runs, and she shouldn’t have done that. She should have gotten up early and come out here to run or taken her lunch break at one of the picnic tables spread across the sand.

She should have done more.

She also should have watched where she was going because without realizing it, she’s wandered half a mile down the beach from where she parked and is standing in front of Jones Boating.

Who is she kidding? This is exactly where she wanted to walk, and it’s exactly why she drove to the beach in the first place.

There’s no point in lying to herself over the decisions she’s making today.

Emma slips her shoes back on before opening the front door to the building. A little bell goes off as she walks in, and while she’s usually greeted, there’s no one at the front desk. But then she hears the clicking of nails, and all of the sudden Killian’s border collie is walking toward her.

“Hey, Skipper,” she sighs, leaning down to scratch behind his ears before he can jump up on her. “How are you doing? Good? Have they let you go out on a boat today, or are those bad men keeping you inside? Huh?”

“He went for a run this morning, love.”

Emma looks up from petting Skipper’s ears to see Killian standing with his arms folded over his chest and a brow raised. He’s got on a t-shirt and joggers, his feet only in socks, and he definitely hasn’t brushed his hair today. Killian Jones, the eternal early riser, is obviously having an off day.

Those must be contagious or something.

Though, her off day is definitely something of her own making.

Maybe if she could stop picking such shitty boyfriends…

“A run is not the same thing as going out on a boat. Not as much hair blowing and definitely more effort on his part.”

“He loves to run. I don’t think he was suffering.” Killian opens his mouth, but then it snaps shut, his eyes glancing over her body. “Is something the matter?”

Her heart absolutely does something unnatural. It’s probably been doing that for an hour now, and this is the first time she’s allowed herself to feel it.

Should she call a doctor? She’d probably get laughed out of the emergency room.

“No, I’m fine.”

Killian clicks his tongue. “I don’t believe you, Swan, but your personal life is your own.”

Oh, he is so not letting it go, and they both know it. He’s waiting for the right time to coax it out of her, and they both know it.

She’s going to take the out, though.

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

“I have clothes on. I believe I’m dressed.”

“You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“I promise I did not, mostly because I sleep in the nude.”

“Shut up,” Emma groans, getting up from the ground and patting Skipper’s head. “You don’t even have shoes on. You know what I mean.”

“Aye. I’m painting the back offices while Liam is at some city council meeting.”

  
  
“He’s so going to murder you when he gets back. He didn’t want those rooms painted.”

  
  
“They had wallpaper with fish on them. He will thank me later.”

  
  
“Yeah, after he murders you.”

Killian shrugs. “It’ll be worth it. You want to help?”

“You know, my day unexpectedly cleared up, so I’d love to help.”

  
  
“No work?”

“Not until around six tonight.”

“Then come on, Swan. Get one of the t-shirts from the closet, and you can do the trim work.”

  
  
“That’s the worst part.”

  
  
“But you’re so damn good at it, and my hand dexterity is not the same as yours.”

Emma rolls her eyes. He’s about to bait her with sympathy, and the two of them both know it. He won’t tell her what happened with his damn hand, not that she’s ever asked, but he will still play that card when he can.

Like he said, his personal life can be his own business when the time calls for it.

“I hate you. You don’t even paint with that hand, and I know you can still use a roller with it. You painted my apartment.”

  
  
“Semantics.”

Painting ends up being exactly what she needs. Killian’s got the radio blaring, the air conditioner on, wallpaper already removed, and she gets lost in focusing on making sure the white trim stays where it needs to be while Killian rolls blue up and down the walls. They don’t talk except for a few words here and there, and it helps Emma forget that she should be in the dark in her apartment eating ice cream or rage running on the beach or something.

That fish wallpaper really was horrible.

When they’re finished, they close up the paint cans, wash the brushes, and then Killian turns up the volume of the door alarm so he can hear if a customer comes in while they’re upstairs in his apartment eating lunch.

She really has to crash his place more often if he’s going to feed her, even if it’s just some leftover pasta.

It’s better than any leftover pasta she makes.

“Are you and Neal coming over Friday night?”

Emma’s fork hits her bowl, metal clanging against the glass. Killian is staring at her. She can tell. What she’s not going to do is look up at him to see that damn eyebrow raised again. Skipper is definitely sniffing Emma’s leg trying to get food. “I’ll be here. I don’t know about Neal. He’s, uh, possibly working.”

“Working? Since when does he work?”

That’s the question of the century.

“He works at the dealership. You know that.”

“I heard he was working with his dad again.”

She’s going to choke on her pasta. “Possibly.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“For fuck’s sake, Killian. What is this? An interrogation? Neal has his own life, and I’m not in charge of him.”

It’s Killian’s turn to drop his fork to his bowl, and she finally takes the opportunity to look up at him. No part of him is phased by her outburst. “Look, I’m no upstanding citizen, but you and I both know that you don’t like when Neal works with his dad because the entire town knows they are probably selling stolen goods they don’t register. There’s no way you’re okay with that since I have heard you rant about it time and time again.”

  
  
She’s not.

Not in the slightest.

There were too many times, too many close calls, where she almost ended up behind bars simply trying to survive by stealing Pop Tarts and small packets of peanut butter, and Neal and his dad have made a living by selling stolen goods and overcharging poor old women who think that the necklace they find is just like the one their husband gave them fifty years ago.

It usually is.

But Neal’s dad is so damn smart about it all that no one ever has any proof that he’s behind the thefts and the coverups.

Or he’s got the police in his pocket. That’s more likely even when there’s good guys like David on the force. He handles traffic stops, bar brawls, and chairs left overnight on the beach, so that’s not exactly the same jurisdiction.

How the hell did Neal fall back into it?  
  


Probably the buy his mistress gifts. He was always a fan of that when they first got together.

Or maybe he did actually get that money from his legitimate job.

It’s not her business anymore. It’s not her life. He can do whatever the fuck he wants and fuck whoever he wants. He was already doing those things anyways.

“As far as I know, Neal is still just selling cars,” Emma lies. “Why are we getting together Friday night anyways? I have to get up early Saturday to make up for the lost time at work, so it better be more than pizza and beer.”

“I have an inclination that Liam is proposing to Elsa that afternoon, and then we’re having a party here afterward. He hasn’t said, though. I’ve just seen the ring in his sock drawer and he suggested a party.”

Oh wow. That’s…that’s really happening. Emma’s kind of fallen down on keeping up with Elsa, and she makes a mental note to text her. Elsa’s always been good at letting Emma fade in and out, and she appreciates people like that, especially since Emma doesn’t always want to hang out at the apartment with Liam.

There’s nothing wrong with him, but she gets this weird feeling that he can’t stand her.

But he loves Elsa, truly loves her, and that’s all that matters. It’s not like she’s the one dating Liam.

“No shit. They’re getting engaged?”

“They do love each other. Engagements tend to happen.”

“Yeah, yeah I guess they do. So, what are we having to eat that night?”

“Pizza and beer, but everyone’s got to bring their own beer.”

Emma flicks a piece of pasta at Killian, and the idiot manages to catch it in his mouth before obnoxiously chewing it with an obnoxiously wide grin on his face.

“We’re also going to have cake. Liam put in an order at the bakery.”

“Why do you know so much about your brother’s life?”

“He’s not very sly.” Killian smiles, his eyes crinkling. He really needs to shave. His beard has gotten a little too long. “So, you’re coming?”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, “I’ll be there if you buy my wine.”

“I’ve already got it stocked, darling.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome! I'm so glad that you're excited for this one!

“What happened to your hand?”

Killian blinks down at the kid standing in front of him. He can’t be any older than five, and if Killian made money off of every five-year-old that asked him what happened to his hand, he’d be a rich man.

If he had money for every mom whose cheeks went red at mortification from their children, he’d be an even richer man. This mom barely glances down at her kid, though, so she likely doesn’t pay much attention to him to begin with.

“Would you believe that a shark got me and that I had to fight it off?”

“No,” the kid giggles.

“Jake,” Mrs. Hart hisses. “That’s not a nice thing to ask someone. I’m so sorry, sir. I – ”

Okay, maybe she was paying more attention than she thought he was. His judgment might have been wrong, but he’s known the Harts long enough to know they aren’t particularly affectionate with their children. A lot of the parents who come through here during the summer aren’t hands on. He never likes to judge, but he knows what it’s like to have one parent who’s there and another who’s pretty bloody absent. He would much rather have had a parent who paid attention, so he notices.

“It’s nothing,” Killian lies as his hand traces over the red lines of his scars and the black ink etched into his skin. “It’s just a few scars. We all have scars somewhere. Mine are simply on my arm and my hand so everyone can see. I kind of think they make me look cool, though. Don’t you think, Jake?”

“Yeah, you look like a superhero! Like Thor when he only has one real eye”

“Good. I always wanted to be one of those. I think I’d have water powers. What about you?”

“I want to be able to fly.”

“Alright,” Liam sighs as he walks back out from the office with a stack of papers and some keys. Skipper is following right behind him and immediately moves to Mrs. Hart’s side to start sniffing her. “If you can just initial a few of these papers, you’ll be good to go for the month. The cost of the first tank of gas has already been included, but when you need to fill up again, that will be on your own dime.”

“I understand. We’ll really have to get our own boat soon so we’re not renting anymore.”

“We’ll store that for you and do year-round maintenance,” Liam adds in as Skipper starts jumping.

“Skipper,” Killian whistles. “Skip. C’mon. Get off Mrs. Hart.”

“It’s fine,” she promises as she signs. “We have dogs back home. My husband is going to bring them up when he arrives next week.”

  
  
“We’ll see you at the dog park then.”  
  


“Yeah,” she smiles, leaning over the counter, her shirt sliding down with the movement. “I think I’d really like that.”

And then she’s pushing the papers across the desk, taking her son’s hand, and then walking out the door, looking back at the last minute.

“She wants to sleep with you,” Liam says as soon as the door clicks and the bell stops ringing.

“My God,” Killian groans. “Don’t start with that.”

“What? You haven’t found a girlfriend for the summer yet. Mrs. Hart could be that for you. Though, I think the children and husband could complicate matters.”

“Shut up, you ass. I am not going to sleep with a married woman, and I do not only date during the summer.”

“No, no you don’t. You do, however, usually find someone to sleep with while they’re here for the summer, and then when they go home, you break it off even when they want to try long distance. I’ve seen you do it a million times.”

“First of all,” Killian starts as he files their paperwork, “I date all year. It’s not a summer thing. I’ve just found that some women come here for the summer, we hit it off, and then it tends not to work out when they go home and return to their real lives.”

“This city isn’t some kind of boarded off place. This is real life, too.”

“For you and me, yeah. For the rich people who don’t work in offices in the summer and pay thousands of dollars to rent boats for a month, this isn’t. It’s all a fantasy life to them, and I can guarantee that most of them aren’t interested in a real relationship. I swear the heat gets to their brains, but this is Maine. It never truly gets hot.”

“Says the man who spent half his life in England and complained when the sun started shining.”

Killian huffs and closes the filing cabinet. “What are you still doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be heading to Elsa’s to pick her up?”

Liam immediately blushes, but just as soon as the color appears, it fades away. “I’ve still got time. We’re not going to dinner until five.”

  
  
“Ah, yes, the early bird’s special.”

“Bastard.”

Killian whistles and pulls out the chair behind the front desk as Skipper settles down at his feet. He needs to take him to the groomer’s. His fur is far too long, and he’ll get hot like this. Maybe he can shave his coat, but that ended up to be horribly choppy last time. It was a mess with the mixture of black and white, and having a border collie is not at all the same as the black lab he had back in England.

At least not when it comes to haircuts.

“Look, I’m not saying that I know what you’re doing tonight, but I do know why you’ve called all of our friends here tonight, so I do know. Or, at least, I have a hunch. The cake in the fridge gives me a little bit of a hint.”

“If you tell anyone and it gets to Elsa before it happens, I will send you out on a boat with not enough gas to get back to shore.”

“I already told Emma, so it’s a bloody good thing that I can swim.”

Liam narrows his eyes and his lips flatten into a straight line. “You have to get over Emma, you know? She’s been with Neal for what? Five years? I don’t think you’re going to have a chance when it comes to her.”

Killian’s stomach twists, and he forces down the lump in his throat. Liam’s got to get over his odd obsession with not liking Emma because he thinks Killian’s making himself miserable over her. He’s not. When he first came to town, he wouldn’t have said no to dating Emma. Hell, he wouldn’t say no now. He’s not blind. He’s simply not counting on anything to happen there.

They can be friends without wanting to fuck each other.

“Emma is a friend. I don’t have any interest in pursuing a relationship with her. You should know that. Didn’t you just talk about how I’m the boy toy of a different woman every summer? Why would I ever change that for a woman who lives here? Then I’d have to be in a real relationship that’s more than sex.”

“Killian, you know I didn’t mean it that way. At some point, you’re going to have to stop pursuing relationships that you know aren’t going to be successful.”

“Fuck you, Liam,” he growls. “I’m nearly twenty-eight-years-old. I don’t need you to be my parent.”

“Little brother – ”

“Younger. I’m _younger_.”

“I didn’t mean – ”

The front door of the shop opens, that damn bell going off, and Skipper immediately gets up to greet Mr. French. Killian’s never been so excited to see the man in his life when he usually dreads his presence. At least now he can get out of this conversation.

The man is damn particular about how they care for his boat.

“We’ll talk later,” Liam mumbles as he walks around the counter and heads back to the staircase.

“Forget about it, Liam. Good luck tonight.”

-/-

“Oi, I thought we were having beer,” Will mutters as he slams the refrigerator shut. “There’s not any here.”

“You were supposed to bring your own. I wasn’t about to buy it for everyone. I like to have a little bit of money in my bank account.”

“Then why the hell do you have Emma’s favorite wine, your preferred rum, and then nothing else?”

“How do you know Emma’s preferred wine?” Killian scoffs, narrowing his eyes at Will.

“I’m a bartender at the only bar she goes to. I know what all of our friends like.”

Killian sighs and turns the kitchen faucet on to wash the few remaining dishes. Liam keeps leaving his in there instead of washing them himself, and if it didn’t drive Killian mad to not have an empty sink, he’d leave them be until Liam cleaned himself.

This particular load is most likely payback for painting the office on Monday, but it’s worth it. He couldn’t live with that wallpaper any longer. It was awful, and he swears he lost a day of his life every time he had to look at it.

“If you’re a bartender, why didn’t you think to bring your own drinks?”

“I assumed they’d be provided.”

“We literally just discussed this, Scarlet.”

“Just saying. It would have been nice.”

“Next time Liam gets engaged, I’ll buy the alcohol for everyone.”

“That’s all I ask,” Will sighs as he sits down and props his feet on the coffee table. “So, he’s really asking her? Tonight? I heard the rumors, but I wasn’t sure if they were true.”

“Who’d you hear that from?”

“Belle. Her dad overheard you two talking. So, it’s actually happening?”

“As we speak, I believe.”

Will whistles. “Damn. Look at Liam growing up.”

“It only took him thirty-three years.”

“Hello, hello,” Ruby hums as she walks in the door. It was unlocked, and he really should have never expected her to knock. She and Ariel let themselves in all the time without any kind of warning. “I’m here, and I bring Emma, Robin, and beer. What more could you ask for?”

“The rest of our friends maybe?” Will mutters.

“Shut up. They’re coming. You have to be patient and appreciate that we’re here even if I know you don’t care about anything until Belle gets here.”

“I care about the beer Rob’s got.”

Killian finishes washing the last dish and looks up to see Emma walking toward him. She’s been weirdly quiet since he last saw her, but work must be busy for her as the summer season starts. It’s the same thing for him, so he gets it. They usually only cross paths at lunch or at three in the morning when she’ll text him and ask him to meet up to get a slushie at the 24-hour gas station up the road. With all of the cosmetic improvements the city has made over the past year, this summer is going to be a busy one, he thinks, so he can’t imagine that there will be too many of those trips.

He’ll have to go get her drink and bring it to her as she deals with all of the out of town assholes she always has to deal with.

“Hey,” Emma says as she hops up on the kitchen counter, nearly knocking a plate over. “So, not to be a Will because I just know he’s been complaining about not having a drink, but when is the pizza getting here?”

“David is supposed to be bringing it since it’s on his way here from the station.”

  
  
“You know he’s going to eat half of it on the way here.”

“That’s why I also have Ariel bringing a few boxes.” He leans forward and quickly brushes his lips across her cheek. If he was paying more attention, he’d say that she flinched. That’d be ridiculous, though. She wouldn’t do that. “I have kept Will away from your wine because he has actually been complaining about the lack of drinks.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite person in the world.”

“Oh really? I’ve risen above all the others?”

Emma pats his chest. “Maybe just for tonight. Tomorrow, you go back down the list and will only be dangling by a thread.”

“I’ll take this honor and cherish it.”

“As you should. It’s the only time you’re ever going to get it.”

“I’ll be sure to take advantage of it. Do you think Liam will kill us if we eat the cake before he gets here?”

“I think that and painting the office will push him over the edge.”

“Then we best err on the safe side. I’m too young to get murdered.”

“No one is too young to get murdered,” David adds in as he walks in the apartment. “I see it all the time.”

“We literally have one of the lowest murder rates in the country.”

“I meant on TV.”

“Oh, yeah, obviously.”

“Thank God,” Will groans. “Pizza and beer. Finally. I thought I was going to die.”

Little by little, everyone else begins filtering in until the apartment is so full there’s not much room to move around. Killian opens up the balcony doors, sea air and the sound of the waves wafting in, and that allows a little more space. Killian has no clue when Liam and Elsa are supposed to be here, neither of them texting or calling to make the announcement they’re all waiting for, but he figures it should be soon based on the timing of Liam’s dinner reservation and how almost comically predictable his brother can be.

It’s a Jones trait. They like their routines, and they’re particular about most everything they do. The Navy will do that to you. Though, Killian does remember Brennan being like that as well. His mother was much more of a free spirit, and she’d likely laugh at the way he and Liam behave.

God, she’d love to be here tonight to see Liam so happy.

Killian would love for her to be here, too.

Killian shakes himself out of that thought process and grabs a slice of pizza from Ariel’s batch and a beer before heading out to the balcony and sitting down on a seat next to Emma and Mary Margaret as they talk about some banquet the club is having to host next week to kick off the start of summer even if there’s technically still a month left until summer begins.

Not in Storybrooke.

Not when this is what this town looks forward to all year.

Everything here is pastel colors and beachy names, and the economy thrives so much over five months that everyone can still make it the rest of the year off the bare bones from people living here and the occasional tourist in winter. He swears it’s like some kind of movie, but it’s nice in a way to not have the worries and the commotion he had when living in England.

After a few minutes, Mary Margaret excuses herself to go find David, and when she leaves, she closes the sliding door. It’s probably a force of habit, something she doesn’t think about, but as soon as the door slides into place, suddenly the noise of the party is muted while the ocean is the loudest he’s heard it in a long time. There must be a storm coming tonight. That wasn’t on the radar. Damn, he hopes that doesn’t cause any problems with any of the people they have in boats out on the ocean right now.

“Liam and Elsa are taking forever to get here. There’s not going to be any food left for them.”

“They went to dinner,” Killian explains. “They won’t be hungry. Hell, I don’t think Elsa will be able to even think about eating with everyone who’s about to bombard her to congratulate her.”

“Ariel is going to tackle her to the ground, and Anna will probably make her lose her hearing from the screech over the phone.”

“We’ll have to make a trip to the hospital.”

“Ah, how everyone wants to spend their engagement night.”

“I think it’d be a bloody good time.”

Emma laughs, but it’s quiet. It’s not her usual laugh, the loud, infectious thing that he’s grown used to in the past five years, and he hates it. He hates that she’s laughing without actually meaning it.

A part of him hates himself for knowing her well enough to pick up on something like that, but he’s always considered himself to be quite perceptive even when he’d rather not be.

“Hey,” he whispers, kicking his foot into hers. “What’s up with you, love?”

“Um, nothing?” Her brows furrow together before rising. “What’s up with you?”

“Simply trying to figure out why you’ve been in a weird mood all week.”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?”

“We did, but I didn’t get any answers.”

Her eyes roll. Great. He’s pushing her again, and that always goes well.

He never has known when to stop.

“It’s my life. You don’t need answers.”

“We spend half of our time together. I think I do deserve an answer if something is bothering you.”

“Yeah?” Emma scoffs, standing from the chair and walking toward the railing. “You think you get to know about my life? How much of your own do you tell me?”

“Nearly everything.”

“I know when you’re lying, Killian. I can tell. You do not tell me everything.”

“I know you can tell, which is bloody frustrating.”

Emma makes some kind of highly offended noise, and she’s right. He doesn’t tell her nearly everything. He doesn’t tell her a lot, but he could. He _would_. It’s simply that he and Emma have never had the type of friendship where they needed to get into the dark details every other conversation. They debate more on the merits of different types of chips.

Then again, Emma likely knows more about him than anyone but Liam.

But not enough. She doesn’t know about…she simply doesn’t know.

Killian looks up to see Emma’s shoulders deflate before she turns around and faces him. Her eyes are bloodshot. Have they been like that all night? How did he not notice? He talked to her earlier. He should have noticed.

“I broke up with Neal.”

_What the fuck?_

She what now?

Killian’s heartbeat quickens, his cheeks suddenly warm, and his first thought is relief. He’s an asshole because his first thought of Emma ending her relationship is relief.

He always hated Neal. Well, not always, but Emma deserves better than someone a man who treats her like Neal treated her. Then again, who is Killian to judge how someone is in a relationship? It’s not as if he knows how to be in one.

After relief, though, and a brief bit of anger, all Killian can really focus on is how utterly broken Emma looks.

Emma Swan has never been one to possibly look broken. She’s always seemed so strong and sure, and he hates everything about the water in her eyes and the quiver in her lips. He hates everything about her having to go through this.

He really fucking hates Neal.

“I – ”

There’s a loud cheer behind the two of them, and Killian turns around to see Liam and Elsa walking into the apartment, their hands twined together and raised in the air. They’re absolutely beaming.

“Looks like it’s time to go congratulate the happy couple,” Emma mutters as she brushes past him.

“Swan, I – ”

But she doesn’t stop. Instead she opens the door and walks away, the glass sliding shut behind her as thunder rolls in the background.


	3. Chapter Three

She shouldn’t have come tonight.

It was a horrible idea.

A really, truly, horrendous idea.

Emma has had a lot of those lately, but that’s not new for her.

God, her heart feels like it’s going to explode, and she imagines there’s no way for that to twist around and be healthy. She’s been walking around all week not telling a soul that she broke up with Neal or any of the circumstances behind it, and the fact that none of them know about it tells her that Neal hasn’t told anyone either. He never did like her friends, so she guesses it makes sense that he wouldn’t talk to any of them.

Why is she only realizing all of this now? Where were these revelations before?

How blind has she been to so many things? Was she so damn desperate for love that she accepted the scraps someone left on the floor?

But now she went and told Killian that they broke up, which she shouldn’t have done. He kept pestering her, and she knew that eventually she’d break or he’d figure it out. He already knew something was wrong when no one else seemed to notice. She should have just told someone, anyone, and not someone who is hosting a party to celebrate his brother’s engagement.

Emma should not be somewhere celebrating love when she can never seem to get that particular thing quite right.

Quickly, Emma glances behind her to see if Killian is following her. He’s not. He’s still standing on the balcony, and Emma takes the opportunity to make a beeline for the kitchen and grab the wine Killian got for her for tonight. She’s sure the beer everyone’s brought is fine, but she’s never been much of a beer girl unless it’s the only option.

And she really, really needs a drink.

Well, another one.

“Woah, woah, woah,” David laughs, “you going to drink that entire bottle tonight?”

“I might.”

“Well, at least do it in moderation and have a little something to eat.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’ve already had some pizza. Do you always have to act like a dad?”

“If I was a dad, I’d take the bottle away from you and pour out half of your glass for myself.”

“True.” She gulps down a large sip. Maybe she should slow down and nurse the glass. She hasn’t even gotten to tell Elsa congratulations, and it probably wouldn’t be a great move for her to be slightly tipsy for that. “Are you coming into the office to help tomorrow?”

“Am I the greatest husband alive because I’m going to my wife’s work on my day off to help the two of you decorate an entire country club that’s too cheap to get you two help for that? Why, yes, yes I am.”

“Shhhh, you can’t talk about the club like that when Robin is around. His girlfriend is kind of in charge of if I can afford to stay in my apartment or not since she owns the damn place.”

“You know, I bet if you moved in with Neal instead of you sleeping over at his place, you two could save money.”

Emma takes a bigger gulp of her wine before biting her tongue on mumbling that she really didn’t stay at Neal’s place much lately. If she did, she usually just crashed on the couch or in bed as soon as she got there.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t exactly helping things, but that doesn’t give Neal an excuse to do anything he did.

For how long that he did. Over and over again.

Bastard.

She’s glad they never moved in together even if they should have so many times. So that’s at least one positive from this whole thing. If she was homeless right now on top of everything else, she’d probably give up…or at least cry a hell of a lot more.

“I like having my space,” Emma mumbles. “Neal likes having his. It’s all fine.”

_Tell him, tell him, tell him._

Her brain keeps chanting those words every time she’s around David. Or anyone, really, because she’s an idiot who is not so great at dealing with feelings or having people be sympathetic toward her.

At least she’s self-aware. Kind of.

Thunder rolls outside and shakes the apartment. Emma turns and looks to see that the sky is now dark and rain has started to fall. Great. The weather is now an accurate representation of her mood. Sometimes the world is a little too on point.

“You know, eventually – ”

“Emma,” Elsa squeals in what may be the most un-like-Elsa sound ever, “oh my gosh, I didn’t know you were here! How did I miss you?”

“I was hiding over here drinking my wine, but I wanted to come see you. Congratulations, lady!”

“Thank you.” Emma quickly puts her glass down before Elsa engulfs her in a hug that is suffocating. “I’m so excited! I never thought I would be the type of girl who got excited and kept making these inhumane noises, but I’m _so_ excited!”

“As you should be! It’s an exciting thing.”

Elsa pulls back, still absolutely beaming. “Wait. Where’s Neal? Is he here?”

When the hell did everyone start caring about Neal?

“He’s working. He couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay. Find me later, yeah? I’ve got to keep making the rounds and find Liam. We have to FaceTime Anna soon, and I think everyone will want to see that.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“I was going to call her in the morning. I didn’t know we were coming back to all of these people.”

“Well, you better call her before someone tells her.”

“I know. She’d murder me.”

So much talk about murder tonight. It’s only slightly disturbing.

Emma laughs as Elsa turns away, and Emma quickly grabs her glass and starts chugging even as David watches her. She doesn’t care. She needs this, even if it’s unhealthy.

Okay, maybe she cares a little as David crosses her arms and stares her down with a stare that she’s pretty sure he uses when he catches teenagers drinking underneath the bleachers at the high school.

Why can’t someone else come and interrupt them? There are twenty people. There should be some kind of relief from her being interrogated by David.

Where’s Killian when she needs him?

Wait, no. She doesn’t want Killian because he knows, and he’s going to ask questions that she still can’t handle.

“Did you and Neal break up?”

Oh shit. Apparently David is going to be asking her questions she can’t handle either.

“What? No. We’re fine.”

David’s eyes glance up and down her face, and Emma could really use that entire bottle now.

“Really? Because there are rumors that he’s been working around the pawn shop again, and we both know how you feel about that.”

“Neal can do what he wants, questionable activities or no. Controlling him in that is really more in your authority than mine.”

“Emma.”

“It’s fine, David,” Emma snaps. “I don’t care what Neal does with his life. We both know as soon as he gets the money he wants, he’ll stop working with his dad and go back to normal and there will be no suspicious activity on your radar that no one will ever do anything about.”

“Are you saying you want me to figure out how to arrest your boyfriend?”

“I’m saying to let sleeping dogs lie. Of all of the crazy things that go on in this town, I don’t think you need to pull your focus on a guy selling mysteriously collected items in a run-down pawn shop. I hear the Tomlinsons are coming back into town, and they’re bringing friends. You’ll be too busy focusing on them and their penchant for spray paint and cheap beer.”

“Fuck. I hate those kids.”

She reaches forward and pats David’s shoulder as her stomach settles. She didn’t think she’d be able to talk herself out of that conversation, but the Tomlinsons will do it.

She hates those kids, too.

“Yeah, they’re the worst. Good luck with all of their vandalism. I’m sure they’ve learned a few tricks over the past year.”

With that, Emma takes her glass and maneuvers away from David before he can circle the conversation back to her and Neal. He obviously knows what’s wrong, and she isn’t ready for that, not at all. Which is the exact reason that she avoids Killian as well. He seems to be avoiding her too, and she can’t say she minds. He can stand in the corner with a beer in his hand away from her as she talks to Ruby and Ariel and anyone else who wanders into her space.

It’s nice to get distracted and to have all of these people around her, talking and laughing and continuously offering to fill her wine glass up.

She doesn’t say no.

By midnight, she’s possibly had the entire bottle, and she may be feeling a little woozy. Her steps are still sure, though, and she knows she’s not slurring her thoughts or her words. It’s a good thing she did eat pizza and drink as many glasses of water as she did wine.

That’s probably why she has to pee as well.

Pee.

The bathroom.

Emma needs the bathroom.

She gets up from the couch where she’s talking to Belle and walks back down the hallway, passing Liam’s room and heading straight toward Killian’s. She knows both of them are absolutely ridiculous about keeping their bathrooms clean, but stalking through Liam’s room never seems like the best idea on her part. She’s always gotten this distinct impression that he doesn’t like her.

That may be the wine talking.

Or true. It’s probably true. She really didn’t have that much to drink. Mary Margaret had some of the wine, so she didn’t have the entire bottle by herself.

And she knows Liam doesn’t like her. She’s asked Killian about it before, but he’s always adamantly denied it.

He’s always been lying when he said it.

Or maybe Neal is right and she really isn’t as good at telling when people are lying as she thinks she is.

Killian’s bathroom is, indeed, clean, and after she’s washed her hands, brushed out her hair, and fixed the slightest smudged mascara underneath her eyes, she feels like a brand new woman and miraculously a little more sober. Opening the door, she steps out only to collide with a warm, solid body.

Fuck.

“If you wanted to get close to me, all you had to do was ask.”

Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes as Killian’s hands settle on her back and hers loop around his neck. She leans back into the bathroom door, and it clicks closed behind her.

Killian smells like sweat and his cologne, and she can’t say that she hates it.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse. Oftentimes by you.”

“I do what I can.” Have his eyes always been this blue? Is it just the lighting in this place? “What are you doing in here?”

His brow raises. He likes doing that. It’s almost weird how his face has the muscles to do that. “What am I doing in _my_ bedroom?”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“Mhm. I was looking for you, actually.”

“Well, you found me.”

“Aye,” he whispers, “it seems like I did. Swan, what happened with Neal? Why didn’t you tell me when you were last here?”

“I don’t – I don’t want to talk about it.”

She can feel the heat of his hands on her back, the warmth of his breath when he speaks, and she swears that she can nearly feel the brush of his scruff. Did he move closer? He did. When did that happen? Why hasn’t she moved away?

Maybe she doesn’t want to.

Why doesn’t she want to?

“Swan.”

“Don’t,” she says quietly, voice cracking as her heart does that awful, painful thing again. “Please don’t. I just – I want you to make me feel better.”

He blinks, and she swears she feels the intensity in his gaze deep in her belly. How is that even possible?

“What are you saying?”

“Jones, you know exactly what I’m saying.” Her hand moves from the base of his neck, and she drags her nail across his skin and up behind his ear. She didn’t even know what she was saying until this exact moment, but now she’s sure of it. Suddenly, she’s much more aware of everything. “C’mon.”

Killian keeps blinking, and his lips part the slightest bit while his jaw ticks. He’s going to say no. She knows that he is, and he probably should. This isn’t…what the hell is she thinking?

But then he pounces, his lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss that she feels over every inch of her body.

_Damn._

Emma’s always known his reputation, knows about the women and the lack of long-term relationships, and she’s always understood the appeal of Killian Jones. She has eyes. Killian’s an attractive man, and anyone with said eyes can see that.

She never quite imagined, at least not in depth, that she would get to see the appeal of kissing him first hand.

Damn, he’s a good kisser.

He doesn’t slow down, never softens the kiss or takes time to savor each movement of her lips or her tongue or the way that her hands scratch his hair and tug him closer. She can’t breathe, her body desperately searching for that little more air, but she’d rather drown in Killian and the way that this feels.

Her thoughts are a little too preoccupied by all of that to focus on much of anything else.

That’s definitely the best thing to happen to her in awhile.

Killian’s hand finds its way underneath her shirt, rough fingertips scratching her skin, and she can’t get over how warm he is or how good it feels as he finds her breast and moves away her bra. A shiver runs down her spin, tickling along her skin, and it settles between her thighs as she begins to absolutely ache for more.

She doesn’t have to question how that happens?

She doesn’t have to question any of this.

She feels good.

_This is good._

_This is really good._

“Get on the bed,” Killian mumbles against her neck.

“I don’t remember saying you could tell me what to do.”

“You said you wanted to feel good, aye? I can make you feel good if you’d simply listen to me for once in your life.”

Emma nods and gulps as she maneuvers herself out of his arms and toward the bed, stripping out of her clothes as she goes while Killian does the same. She gets a glance of his stomach and the toned muscles covered by dark hair she’s seen a million times before, but it looks different in the dim lighting of his room than it ever has out on the beach.

It looks different because she can see where the hair leads, where the muscles dip, and she felt exactly how much he was turned on when he had her pressed up against the door. She’s never seen the full extent of the compass inked on his hip, has never known how intricate it is, but it’s beautiful.

Slowly, Killian walks toward her, his lips curled into a smirk, and then the smirk disappears to her thigh as his lips and his beard brush against her skin, igniting the heat that only keeps growing.

“Oh, so you’re suddenly a gentleman now?” she teases on a broken breath. Sweat is prickling at her skin, and her heart is beating so quickly that she can feel it between her ears. At least it’s no longer painful.

Killian’s tongue does something beyond sinful, and her back arches up off the bed as he pulls her closer to him.

“I’m _always_ a gentleman.”

And then, she swears, she feels better than she has in a long, long time.

From then on, Emma turns her brain off as much as she can. She doesn’t think. She simply feels, and it’s glorious to be able to do that. Killian’s hands and his mouth work wonders on her body. He’s skilled, knows exactly what he’s doing, and she spares one final thought to all of the woman who have come before her for this.

For helping to make her forget everything else.

Killian’s voice is muted, but she can still hear the thickness of the accent and the huskiness coating each word as he encourages her to be quiet. There are still people outside, which is not something she considered.

She didn’t consider a lot of things about this.

But any concerns she has quickly disappear and she rolls over and settles down on top of Killian, sinking down onto him until he’s feeling her and feeling so fucking good that she can’t breathe.

This is exactly what she needed. She needed the way he praises her, needed the way his hands hold onto her ass and her waist and encourage her movements. She needed the way that he kisses and the way that he makes her feel as he moves inside of her.

_She needed this._

And when she falls, it’s to the sound of her own name being whispered in an accent as familiar as anything else in her life and to the rain continuing to pour down outside.

-/-

If someone were to ask her ten things she knows about Killian Jones, the list would be pretty easy and straightforward for her to write.

  1. His brother is the most important person in the world to him despite their disagreements.



  1. His friends come next on that list.



  1. There’s no place he’d rather be than on a beach or on a boat.



  1. He drinks more rum than the actual Captain Morgan did.



(Is there an actual Captain Morgan, she wonders.)

  1. When he thinks something is legitimately funny, his nose scrunches up and his eyes crinkle to show off (almost) twenty-eight years of laughter, even if there is some sadness in there.



  1. He never talks about the scars on his hand unless a kid asks him. Then he always makes up a story that is somehow both far-fetched and realistic.



  1. He has five tattoos at the moment, and she knows he wants to get more.



  1. If you ask him what his favorite movie is, he’ll say he doesn’t have one. It’s because he loves the Hangover and refuses to admit it.



  1. If you ask him who is best friend is, everyone expects him to say Liam, but much to her surprise, he always says Emma Swan.



  1. He likes her on top.



That last one is a new thing she just learned, well, last night.

_Oh fuck, what did she do?_

She fucked Killian.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note because I got quite the number of messages, protection was used at the end of the last chapter. I do not always explicitly write it in, especially when things are ghosted over, because, if I'm totally honest, sometimes it slips my mind or does not flow with the writing. 
> 
> Practice safe (fictional and real) sex everyone 😉

Light peeks through his window shades, a small beam forcing itself through and shining directly in his eyes, and Killian quickly shuts his eyes and burrows his face into a pillow. His head is absolutely pounding. How much did he drink last night? It wasn’t a lot, he doesn’t think, but he’s certainly feeling it today.

He’s really getting old, isn’t he? If this is what drinking is like in his late twenties, he doesn’t want to do it anymore.

Then again, he does love his rum. It’s a shame he mostly had beer last night.

Killian sighs and twists in his bed. He doesn’t have to be down in the office until noon today, and he can definitely go back to sleep.

Until he feels movement on the other side of the bed.

_Bloody hell._

He slept with Emma last night. Several times.

What were they thinking? Is his heart about to pound out of his chest? Has that ever happened to anyone? Is this just the hangover speaking because he’d really like it to shut the fuck up.

Oh shit. They fucked up. They really, really fucked up.

She was emotional and heartbroken and they’d both been drinking.

Killian barely blinked when she asked him to make her feel better. He made a half-assed attempt at trying to get out of it, but he didn’t want to. That thought alone could sober him.

He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to sleep with her.

What the hell is wrong with him?

The bed shifts again, and he feels Emma get out of it. Should he roll over and talk to her? Should he pretend that he’s still asleep and let her sneak out like he knows she’ll want to? Are they going to avoid talking about this forever, or should they simply rip the band-aid off?

“Fuck,” she hisses. “Where is my underwear?”

Killian sighs and reaches up above him. He remembers her tossing them last night, and he quickly finds them before holding them in the air. He guesses ripping off the band-aid is how he’s going to do this.

“I believe you’re looking for these.”

He opens his eyes to find Emma standing completely still. She’s a deer caught in the headlights, and the only thing she’s wearing is her bra. God, she’s gorgeous. He did not take enough time to simply look at her last night. Looking at her wasn’t really in his list of priorities when she felt so goddamn good wrapped around him.

When he thinks about that, he’s not sure that it was real.

When he thinks about that, he allows himself to think that maybe it wasn’t a stupid mistake on both of their parts.

It was. There’s no denying that.

“I don’t. I – ”

Killian waggles his brows before flicking her underwear toward her. She quickly catches it, looks down at it, and then puts them on before grabbing her shorts from the floor.

“Swan, do we need to – ”

“No,” she quickly spits out as her hands run through her hair to try to brush it out. “No, we don’t have to talk about it. We’re adults. We had sex. It happened. It was a one-time thing.”

“Aye, I agree.”

She stops and blinks at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t – we shouldn’t have – this was my fault. Just, can we please forget that it happened?”

“We can, but I think it might be a bit hard to forget some of the best sex of my life.”

Why can’t he shut his damn mouth? It was a joke. True, but a joke. Now likely isn’t the time for making those.

“Killian,” she sighs. She’s still standing in her shorts and her bra. Her hair is an absolute mess. “I don’t know what to say. I’m kind of freaking out right now.”

He swallows and nods before getting out from underneath the covers. He notices Emma glance down at him, and he turns away to grab a pair of sweatpants from his dresser before turning back toward her and forcing a smile onto her face.

“You don’t have to say anything, love,” he assures her. If he’s honest, he’s glad she can admit that she’s freaking out because he doesn’t know if he’s capable of admitting that himself. “We’re no strangers to one-night stands, and that’s what this was. It was simply one with, well, someone we know. If you want to forget about it, we’ll forget about it, easy as that.”

Her mouth opens and closes before falling into an “o” shape.

Killian’s got no idea how he’s supposed to deal with this situation when he’s just as confused and concerned as Emma is, but he seems to be a little bit better at finding the words to keep this from being any more awkward.

“But like I said, I know how you kiss now, Swan. That won’t be easy for a man to forget, but I’ll try in earnest.”

Her eyes flutter closed, and she finally laughs as her head shakes. Okay, so maybe the joking works.

“So that’s that, then?”

“That’s that.”

“Good,” she says. “Good. I’ve got to….I’ve got to go work at the club.”

“You might want to use the spare toothbrush I have before you go. Feel free to borrow my comb as well.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s a good idea. I, um, thanks, KJ.”

“For what?”

“For making me feel good,” she whispers as blush paints her cheeks. “It was nice to forget for awhile.”

He feels his own cheeks heat and smiles down at her. “Anytime.”

“One-time thing,” she repeats as she starts walking toward his bathroom. “Remember that.”

“I’ll try my best,” Killian chuckles, pointing to his head.

Killian’s got no idea what to do as Emma gets ready in his bathroom. While they were talking, he was calm. He was doing his best to reassure Emma that things would be okay because he knows that she’s going to cut him off. He knows that once she leaves and once she has more time to think about what they just did, she’s not going to want to see him for awhile. He doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to be cut off from someone who helps keep him sane half the time, and he’s got no bloody clue how to handle this.

Maybe their conversation was enough, and maybe they won’t have to talk about it again. It’ll simply be something that happened, and it’s over now.

God, he’s never going to forget any of last night. He’s going to have to. It’s like he said: they’re both familiar with one-night stands. That’s what this can be. That’s what this has to be. There’s no other choice.

Fuck.

“Okay,” Emma sighs as she comes out of the bathroom, face washed and hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Do I look at least halfway decent?”

“You’ve got a bit of ah, uh, mark on your neck that’s visible with your hair up.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Give me one of your button-downs.”

“I’m not giving you a button-down.”

“You gave me a hickey, Jones. You can give me a button-down. I’ll return it.”

He sighs and walks over to his closet, pulling it open and finding a shirt before taking it off the hanger and handing it to her. She quickly strips out of her shirt and puts it on. The mark is still there, but it’s hidden.

“Is anyone out there?” Emma asks.

“They shouldn’t be.”

“Can you check?”

“What? You don’t want to be seen doing a walk of shame out of my bedroom?”

“No, no I don’t.” She crosses her arms over her chest. He is not at all distracted by the way she looks in his shirt. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”  
  
“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“I’m serious.”

“Aye, so was I.”

Emma nods at the door. “Can you please go look to see if I can sneak out?”

He mockingly salutes before walking out the door. Liam’s bedroom door is still closed, the light turned off, so he turns down the hallway to walk toward the living area where he can see all of the remnants of last night scattered across the room. He’s going to have to clean all of this up after he gets some coffee in him.

“Hey.”

Holy shit.

Killian jumps, his heartbeat racing, and turns around to see Liam standing in the kitchen with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Morning,” he manages to mumble. “There any of that left in the pot?”

“Yeah, there’s at least another cup. You went to bed early last night.”

Killian reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “Long day. I hadn’t slept the night before. I didn’t mean to disappear.”

“It’s fine. Not everyone stayed long past midnight, and Elsa and I were happy to be able to go to bed.”

“Congratulations again, by the way. I’m glad it all worked out.”

Liam smiles, and Killian recognizes it as the genuinely happy one he reserves for Elsa. “As am I. now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take this coffee back to Elsa. I think I’ll be late down to the shop today.”

“Why don’t you take the day off? You and Elsa can go out and celebrate. I can handle things.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, little brother.”

Killian bites down on his tongue. He’s not going to start something, not now. He’s trying to be nice, and there’s no need to argue over Liam’s obnoxious nickname for him. So he smiles and nods and steps over to the kitchen as Liam leaves to go back to his bedroom. The moment the bedroom door clicks, Killian quietly jogs back down to his own room where Emma is waiting just inside.

“What took you so long?” she hisses.

“Liam was making he and Elsa coffee. C’mon, now. Unless you want to crawl out my window.”

“I’d rather not break a bone.”

“Then now is your chance.”

Emma nods and steps around him before quickly walking down the hallways and out the apartment door, which softly closes behind her.

Emma Swan just snuck out of his apartment.

After sleeping in his bed.

After sleeping with him.

But it was a one-time thing. They’re going to forget about it. That was the agreement, and they’re sticking to it.

They have to.

Shit. Why are they so stupid? She’s been broken up with Neal for less than a week, and he fucked her. What kind of friend is that? They didn’t even talk about what actually happened between she and Neal.

It doesn’t matter. It does, but not right now. Emma didn’t want to talk about it, and he doesn’t need to know. She never asks about why his relationships end, so he can do the same for her.

(His relationships that she’s known of have never been over the course of five years, however.)

What Killian can focus on is getting his coffee to help chase away the lingering hangover, take a shower, and get dressed to go to work. He needs to make sure all of their files and computer systems are up to date before they begin to be flooded with customers and clients. He really needs to go down to the marina and check up on some of their boats and make sure they’ve been cleaned, but he’ll have to do that tomorrow when Liam is in the office. There’s no way in hell Liam and Elsa are leaving his bedroom today, so Liam is definitely not going to surprise Killian and come down to work despite Killian telling him he could handle it all.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. He needs this.

“Skipper, where the hell have you been?” Skipper stands up from where he’s been sitting on the floor behind the front counter and walks over toward Killian. “Huh? Did someone let you down here last night, boy? Do we need to go for a walk and get some breakfast before I open up shop?”

Skipper barks and wags his tail.

“Okay, so a walk and breakfast it is.”

Killian grabs Skipper’s leash off the rack, hooks it up, and then they head out the front door, the bell ringing behind him. The ground is wet outside from last night’s storm, and Killian’s feet sink into the sand before he makes it to the wooden pathway that’s attached to the parking lot. Skipper tugs on his leash and wants to head down to the water, but they need to get to Granny’s and back before ten this morning. They’ll have to go for their run later tonight.

The streets are not yet full, everyone inside their shops and the sun not out enough for people to be wandering around, but the few who are out are touching up the pastel paint on the siding of buildings or power-washing the sidewalks. He sees a few of Rob’s crew doing some landscaping, but Robin is nowhere to be seen. He must have taken the day off to spend time with Roland.

Eventually, Killian and Skipper get to Granny’s, and Killian hooks his leash around the post outside before walking inside and up to the counter, tapping his hand on the top.

“I swear if you don’t stop making so much noise, I will murder you.”

“Ah, lovely service there, Ruby,” Killian sighs, flashing her a smile. She looks about as dead as he felt when he first woke up. “Can I get a breakfast burrito, some sausage, and a black coffee?”

“If you pay me five times the price.”

“How about the price on the menu and a tip?”

Ruby winks. “You’ve got a deal. Give me five minutes. I think Granny already has the stuff for the burritos cooked.”

“No problem.”

Ruby walks back into the kitchen, and Killian sits down at a barstool before hitting his hands against his pants pocket. Damn. He forgot his phone. Sighing, he twists on the seat and looks around the diner. It’s past the breakfast rush, so it’s pretty empty, but Ashley, Sean, and Alexandra are sitting in a booth eating and coloring on the disposable mats while Leroy is sitting with some of his construction crew. Leroy stares him down, so Killian quickly looks away and sees two people sitting in the booth in the back.

What the hell?

It’s Neal. Neal and Tamara, who is in her uniform and probably supposed to be working. Instead, she’s sitting next to Neal in the booth with her tongue practically down his throat.

Killian flexes out his hands before balling them into fists. He wants to punch that son of a bitch, but he can’t. it’ll get him arrested, Emma will hate him, and Neal won’t let it go.

Besides, he slept with Emma last night. Who is he to judge Neal?

Except, in the back of his mind Killian thinks about the fact that Emma and Neal are broken up, that she said she broke up with him. Why would she have broken up with him? It couldn’t have just been him working with his dad again. She’s been dealing with that for awhile, on and off, and while it seems to be a real issue for her for some reason, it wouldn’t be a reason for her to end her relationship.

Neal cheating on her, however, would be.

The fucking bastard.

“Ruby,” Killian hisses as she walks back out and starts pouring his coffee. “Ruby.”

  
  
“Give me a minute. Why are you so impatient today?”

  
“I need to talk to you.”

She groans and rolls her head back before finishing his cup of coffee and walking over to him. “What?”

“Do you see who Tamara is making out with in the corner?”

“No. Who is – oh my God. I’m going to murder him.”

Ruby starts walking away, and he has to grab onto her arm. “No, wait.”

“What could you possibly have me wait for? He needs a swift kick in the nuts.”

“Emma and Neal broke up.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know why?”

“No,” he admits as he swallows the lump in his throat. He should not be sharing her personal information like this, but it looks like everyone was bound to find out sooner rather than later since Neal doesn’t seem to care about hiding whatever is happening with Tamara. “She didn’t tell me, but if I had to guess, I’d say the woman over there had a lot to do with it.”

“That bastard has been coming in here for dinner a lot lately, and I used to think he was getting it for Emma before I noticed that he never ordered her meal. Shit, I should have noticed sooner. I could have – ”

“Hey,” Killian whispers, reaching over the counter to grab Ruby’s forearm, “don’t. Emma will tell you about everything when she’s ready, and I’m sure at some point the two of you will get to bash him over margaritas at the Rabbit Hole. Try not to stare a hole into Neal and Tamara’s heads.”

Ruby leans back and crosses her arms as her brow arches. “Are you defending him?”

“No, love, I’m not. It’s simply that if I allow myself to get angry, David’s going to have to come down here and arrest me for assault.”

“David would want to punch him, too.”

Killian flexes his hands before grabbing onto his left wrist and running his finger over the angry, raised skin. “David has more self-control than I do.”

“Jones’s order,” Granny calls out from the back before hitting the bell.

“Looks like you’re saved by the bell,” Ruby sighs. “Neal too, apparently.”

-/-

Killian can’t sleep.

He’s been tossing in turning in bed for hours, so much so that Skipper got up from the foot of the bed and settled down on his spot next to the door about three hours ago.

It’s now two in the morning, and after a night with no sleep and a day so busy he never sat down, Killian figured he would be asleep by now and his brain would have turned off all of the thoughts it’s been having.

Liam is engaged.

Liam is getting the happy ending Killian’s craved for so damn long and had slip out of his fingers in a split second that he’s relieved over and over again.

And Killian is happy for Liam. He truly is, but there’s this irrational jealousy in the back of his mind picking at him and wondering why can’t he have that kind of thing.

Probably because he sleeps with a different woman each summer knowing nothing is ever going to come of it.

Probably because he slept with his best friend last night.

Killian turns over on the mattress and buries his face in a pillow, which is a horrible mistake since it smells exactly like Emma.

Oh fuck it.

He’s not going to be able to sleep. He knows that he’s not, especially now, so he gets out of bed, pulls on some clothes and slips into his trainers before grabbing his phone and his keys and walking toward the front door.

“I’ll be back, Skip,” he whispers to his dog as he scratches his head.

And then he’s gone, getting into his Jeep and driving toward the service station on the outskirts of town. It’s empty except for the clerk at the counter, and Killian nods at him before heading back to the slushie station and grabbing two cups. He fills one with his preferred blue raspberry flavor and then mixes in that with some cherry in another cup before putting the tops on and heading up to the counter to pay.

He has no bloody clue if she’s going to be awake, but he makes the drive to her place anyway. Most of her apartment complex is dark, but there’s one lone light on in a bedroom.

**Killian Jones:** I got you a slushie.

He looks between his phone and the window. If she turns her light off, she’s ignoring him. If it stays on, he might have a shot of getting inside.

**Emma Swan:** My door is unlocked.

Killian grabs the drinks and his things before heading upstairs, punching in the code to get in her building’s gate before jogging up the steps and turning the knob to get inside. Emma is sitting in her living room, pillows on the floor and clothes scattered everywhere. There’s a half-empty glass of wine and a bowl full of popcorn sitting in front of her. If he had to guess, there’s melted Milk Duds mixed in as well. It doesn’t look like she’s actually had any of the drink.

She looks just as exhausted as he feels.

“What are you doing up?” she asks.

“I couldn’t turn my mind off.”

Emma nods and stands from the couch, slowly walking toward him until she’s nearly touching him. Her breath is coming out easily, her chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale, and he can’t seem to look away from the green in her eyes.

“I know a way we can fix that,” Emma whispers as her arms loop around his neck.

“What happened to that being a one-time thing?”

“I changed my mind.”

“Are you going to change it again in the morning?”

Emma hums and presses up further onto her toes to let her lips linger against his. “I don’t know. Are you okay with that?”

He is.

He shouldn’t be, but he is.

This is not why he came here, but right now, he can’t possibly think of anything else other than being with her in this moment and chasing the high that comes with that.

“Aye, I’m okay with that.”

The slushies melt in their cups in Emma’s living room that night.


	5. Chapter Five

“Where are you going?”

Emma twists her head to the side and tugs her comforter up to her chest. “To get some water.”

“I wore you out then, did I?”

Emma groans and tries to get out of bed before Killian’s hands wrap around her waist and tug her back. His lips press against the back of her neck, scruff scratching against skin, and she melts into the feeling of it.

Almost.

“Wait, wait,” she interrupts, pulling away from him and twisting in the bed until she’s back on her side and facing him. He’s got red pillow creases all across his face, and he desperately needs to fix his hair. It’s a mess. They probably both are. “We need to talk.”

His eyes flutter closed before his lips spread into a smile. “I’ve found when a woman says that I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

Emma swallows and pulls the comforter up a little higher. She doesn’t know how well this is going to go, but it’s been on her mind pretty much every other minute for the past week. Well, besides when she wants to pull her hair out over the insane specificities that her boss is giving her for every event they’ve got on the books. A regular Tuesday night dinner with twenty people does not need to be the most well thought out dinner in the history of dinners, but no one seems to understand that.

A part of her almost misses waitressing, but then she remembers the pay and how shitty people are to waitstaff.

“We need to make rules,” Emma blurts out. She’s got to bite the bullet or else she’ll never do it.

Both of Killian’s brows raise at that. “Rules?”

“Yeah, about this.” She motions between the two of them. “I don’t – hell, Killian, we’ve kind of fallen into…”

“Bed?” he laughs, his lips ticking up into a broad smile.

“Shut up.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“I know, but I – look, we’re friends, right?”

“Aye.” He nods and sits up as the sheets fall down to his waist and she’s only slightly distracted by the dip in his collarbone and the way the ink on his shoulder stretches across his skin. “To be quite frank, you’ve somehow wormed your way into being my closest mate.”

“Your closest _mate_ who you’ve now been sleeping with for, like, a week, and not to be too emotionally aware since that is not my expertise, but I feel like that’s going to blow up in our faces at some point since we’re not really talking about it.”

Whew. She got that out. That was the hard part, right?

“Ah, so you want to make rules?”

“Exactly.”

Killian clicks his tongue and points between them. “If we make rules, Swan, it means we’re continuing this. Do you want to continue this?”

_God, yes._

“I mean, I feel like it could be beneficial to both of us.”

“How so?”

He knows exactly what she’s trying to say, but the asshole is going to make her say it. Maybe she didn’t get the hard part over. “I’m not looking for a relationship,” Emma starts, “and I assume you’re not either.”

“I’m not,” he confirms.

“So why don’t we continue this? No strings attached. I don’t have to be some poor, heartbroken woman as my ex walks around with the woman he cheated on me with without a care in the world, and you don’t have to find one of your women for the summer. I can be that for you.”

Killian hums and scratches behind his ear before tilting his head to the side. The light from outside is hitting his eyes so that the blue is even brighter than usual, and a shiver runs down her spine as he stares at her.

This is weird but good.

“Rule one would have to be that we don’t let sleeping together get in the way of our friendship,” Killian starts, holding a finger up. “I can’t stay sane without having you to vent to about customers and Liam and also Will purposely not restocking my rum at the bar.”

Emma huffs. “I can’t stay sane without middle of the night slushie runs and runs with Skipper.”

“So, we agree on that then? Our friendship comes first.”

“Absolutely.”

  
“And we’re both fully aware that the both of us are using each other for sex, correct?”

“Well, don’t put it like that.”

“Why?” he laughs. “That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“Yeah, but if you put it that way, it makes it sound absolutely dirty.”

“Dirty, huh?” Killian shifts in the bed and moves over toward her. Emma falls back onto the mattress while Killian climbs over her until he’s caging her in and staring down at her with those blue, blue eyes. This shouldn’t feel so damn good, but it does. “I can show you dirty, darling.”

“I think you’re changing the subject.”

“We were talking about sex.” He leans down and nestles his chin into her neck until his teeth tug at her skin, quickly soothing the spot with his tongue. “I’m simply changing it from talk to the act.”

“We have to finish our conversation,” she protests, falsely, as her nails scratch down his back. He groans, and Emma can’t say she minds the sound.

“There will be plenty of time for your lovely little rules later. I can assure you I will listen to them and follow them and do every little thing you ask of me. That’s the benefit of sleeping with a friend who is accustomed to listening to you.”

Emma’s hips arch up into his, and she gulps down as heat licks along her skin and curls between her thighs. He’s more addicting than he has any right to be, and she could definitely get used to a no strings attached kind of situation like this.

Friends with benefits.

She never thought she’d be the type of girl to do that, but it was probably because the situation hadn’t presented itself yet. It obviously has now.

She didn’t have the right friends, apparently.

“You’re a bad influence.”

“I never claimed to be otherwise,” he whispers into her ear, his voice soft before becoming gritty, almost in a blink of an eye. “Now wrap your legs around me. I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back than spending my time talking.”

“I feel like nothing has ever stopped you from talking before.”

  
  
“Well, if my mouth is otherwise occupied, it does become a challenge. But, you know, I do love a challenge.”

-/-

**Killian Jones:** Rule #2. We don’t tell any of our friends.

**Emma Swan:** Agreed. They would lose their shit.

**Killian Jones:** Liam and David would join forces to keep us both locked in our apartments.

**Emma Swan:** David would at least give me food and water. Liam might leave you hanging.

**Killian Jones:** I’d somehow find a way to get Skipper to bring me food. Or you could find a way to send me something.

**Emma Swan:** It’d be the least I could do.

“What are you doing?”

Emma hits the button on the side of her phone and stuffs it in her back pocket. “I was checking our schedule for today.”

Mary Margaret tilts her head. “We’ve got the Silver Club’s luncheon at noon, a group information session at three, and then we have the Welcome Dinner tonight. How did you forget that? We’ve been planning this for months.”

“I didn’t forget,” Emma lies as she stands from the chair. “I was double-checking the times.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just want everything to go well, you know?”

“Emma.” Mary Margaret walks closer and leans against the wall next to Emma. “You just ended a long, serious relationship. It’s okay to not be okay. You’ve been frazzled, and I don’t mind picking up any of the slack that you need me to pick up.”

“I’m fine,” Emma lies. “I am not at all upset about Neal. I just want to, you know…”

“You want to what?”

Emma puts her hands in front of her chest and pushes forward. “I want to push past it, shove it away.”

  
  
“Of course, of course.” Mary Margaret’s ballet flat scuffs against the hardwood. “I always thought you two were good together. There’s not a chance that – ”

“Fuck no,” Emma laughs even as she wishes she could be anywhere but here. “I mean, we had our good moments, but I’ve been through too much shit to stay with him. I think for the first time I – you know what, never mind, it’s not important. Let’s get back to the dinner. Do you think it’s going to go well?”

  
  
Super smooth subject change there, Emma. Mary Margaret definitely didn’t notice it at all.

Mary Margaret sighs and wraps her arm around Emma’s shoulder. “It always goes well. You’re good at this. You’ve got to know that by now.”

“I pretty much live in constant fear that Regina is going to fire me because someone is unhappy with a color scheme or because a kid is going to tell their parent we didn’t have the right kind of lemonade and then the parent decides to take rare interest in their kid for once just to make my life miserable.”

“Yeah, I live in constant fear of that, too. Those parents are scary.”

“How many are coming to the information session?”

“Ten new couples, three returning who want an update, and then we’ve got forty kids already signed up to stay in the kids’ club all summer.”

Emma lets out a low whistle. “Ashley and Aurora are going to lose their minds if we don’t get the part-time hires on board.”

“Or if we don’t help them out more than on the excursions.”

She hums and opens up the door out of her office. “I’m too busy dealing with whiny, privileged adults complaining about how the pool isn’t the right temperature.”

“You’re right. It’s such a hard life.”

Emma snickers. “Maybe we’re not meant for this job.”

“Probably not, but you prefer this to waitressing, right?”

“Oh hell yes. I will not go back to that and sleeping on your couch. You were the best for taking me in since I was pretty much a walking human disaster, but there will be no more sleeping on your couch. I like having my own bed and being able to eat food other than kitchen leftovers.”

“I do miss you on my couch, though. Lots of good talks. And my hair was long then, and you were the best at braiding it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma laughs. She takes a deep breath, letting a little bit of the heaviness on her chest evaporate. Mary Margaret pushes her a hell of a lot, but sometimes she does know when to step back. “I know you do. Now come on, let’s go make sure that there are no pink linens or Mrs. Rose will absolutely lose her shit.”

  
  
“And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Oh, I would, but like I said, I also like my job.”

“Then no pink linens it is.”

-/-

“How did I know I’d find you here?”

Emma’s heartbeat picks up at the familiar voice, and she looks up from her spot to see Killian walking down the beach toward her.

“Because Mary Margaret probably told you.”

“Damn, I’ve been found out.” He takes a few more steps until he’s sliding down onto the lounge chair next to her and handing her a slushie. “Because they melted the other night.”

Her cheeks heat at the thought, and she’s got to stop doing that. They are adults sleeping together, and there’s no need for her to feel weird about that. It’s a little weird talking about it somewhere other than a bedroom or over text, though. Yeah, that’s why his reference made her cheeks flush. That’s the only reason.

“Thank you.” She takes quick sip. “Is there tequila in this?”

“I thought you could use it after your Welcome Dinner. I know that’s hell every year.”

“Oh my God, yes,” Emma groans. “It was the worst. I swear it’s more people every year, and they all show up thinking this is going to be like that episode of Mrs. Maisel where they show up at the summer camp and never have to lift a finger. I mean, to the point where I would be putting their food in their mouths, which I am not going to do.”

“Isn’t that kind of what this is?”

Emma glares at him, but Killian not-so-slyly takes a sip of his drink and avoids her stare.

That was smart of him because she’s just exhausted enough to want to slap him for being a smart ass.

“No. We’re not a resort. They just come to the club for meals and parties and leave their kids with us all day. They ask us where they can rent or keep their boats, and I obviously only recommend you, and then they have to go home to their own homes or rentals at the end of the day where I have nothing to do with them or what they ear.”

“Oh, yeah, totally different than it being a resort.”

“Shut up,” Emma chuckles as she drinks her slushie. She’s going to have to run in the morning to work off all of the food she’s been eating today. She had so many of the cookies before they went out to the tables. “It is different. I’m just at their beck and call for half of the day. I would lose my mind if I had to do more.”

“A job’s a job.”

“And when you’re not qualified to do much else…”

Killian kicks his leg out in the sand toward her. “If things don’t work out for you, you can come work for me.”

Emma sputters out a laugh. “Liam would never in a million years let me work with you guys.”

“Oh, come on. He definitely would…at some point…maybe two million years.”

She rolls her eyes and twists on the lounge chair until she’s facing Killian again. A breeze from the ocean wafts toward her, and chills pop up on her arms. Killian silently shrugs off his sweatshirt before handing it over to her. He’s got on a Henley underneath it, and he obviously is more prepared for the late-night chill than she is.

“Liam isn’t my biggest fan. It’s okay. I’ll just have to go back to waitressing when I lose my mind on a member and throw a drink in their face.”

“Hey, now, he does like you a little bit. Let’s not immediately jump to throwing drinks in someone’s face.”

“You don’t have to placate me, KJ. Your brother is a stubborn ass to me. It runs in the family, but one of you at least makes up for it by providing drinks and mediocre conversation.”

Killian scoffs before leaning back up against the chair and running his hands through his hair. The scars on his hand look almost silver in the moonlight. She’s never noticed that before.

“Mediocre conversation? Is that what this is? I happened to think I was a brilliant conversationalist.”

“Occasionally. Did you know they want me to start wearing a uniform?”

“What?”

“Yeah, Regina is losing her shit. She wants me to wear khaki shorts and a different pastel colored polo for different days of the week, but that’s only for the afternoons. At night, she still wants me to get dressed up so I can ‘look like a member and not an employee.’”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“Damn,” Killian whistles. “I am going to love giving you shit about that.”

“Ha, I’m not going to wear the polos. I already have to wear the damn khaki shorts when we do events on the beach, but I am not wearing the polos. I’ll get fired first.”

“It’s a good thing you’ll have a job with me in a million years.”

“Two, I thought.”

“Possibly three.”

Emma laughs and settles back down onto the chair as she keeps drinking. Killian got a little too much cherry in this. Or maybe that’s just the tequila. It’s good, though, and she needed it tonight.

God, the people at the club are all so obnoxious, and she’s desperately going to miss fall and winter when she didn’t have people hounding her with questions every day all day. She deserves hazard pay for every person that makes a snide remark about the linens or someone who they think doesn’t fit the type of person they want at the club.

They don’t know she’s the exact type of person they wouldn’t want to associate with.

Foster kid, no money, little education, run ins with the law…the list goes on and on.

But she’s not that person anymore. She’s not. She’s at least got her life together in that she has money and isn’t having to steal Pop-Tarts from convenience stores.

Now she just drinks slushies from them that have tequila mixed in.

At least these were paid for.

She hopes. No, she knows. Killian definitely paid for them.

“Oh,” Emma says, “I thought of another rule. It’s kind of a big one.”

“Is it now?”

“If you want to start sleeping with other people, you can. Just say the word if you meet someone like, you know, you usually do, and we can stop. There’s no need to do it if you’re sleeping with someone else.”

Killian’s brows furrow, and he scratches his chin. “I thought we had already decided I didn’t need to find someone? I don’t purposefully look for someone, by the way. It just happens.”  
  


“Oh, yes, I’m so beautiful too that people just line up to sleep with me.”

“I mean, you are. You’d have to be blind not to know that.”

Emma swallows and tugs down the sleeves on the sweatshirt before crossing her arms over her chest, hugging her stomach tightly. She is not going to give herself enough time to process what he just said. “Anyway, I mean that if you meet someone and want to give it a shot, go for it. Give me the word, and we can start pretending I’ve never seen your dick before.”

“Well, I mean, you already did that one time at – ”

“That was an accident,” she giggles, “and totally your fault for leaving the door unlocked while you were changing.”

“There wasn’t a lock on the door.”

“Whatever.”

“Rule four,” Killian sighs, holding his fingers up, “is that I do not have to cook you breakfast if you spend the night.”

“No. That’s a shitty rule, KJ, and you know it! You cook me breakfast now. You can’t go back on it.”

“Alright, alright, if you insist,” he laughs as his hand reaches over toward her and curls her hair around his fingers. They’re warm and rough, and she has to admit that it’s comfortable to have him hold her hand like that. “You know, Liam is staying over at Elsa’s tonight?”

“Is he?” she asks. Emma swallows and shifts a little closer to Killian, the ocean breeze suddenly much warmer.

“He is, and he won’t be back until we open at ten.”

“So, enough time for breakfast then?”

Killian’s eyes crinkle with his laugh. “Is that going to be the only reason you come over?”

“Nah,” Emma sighs as she stands from her chair, “I also really like your dog.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the delay. I’d hoped to have finished writing this story and then post pretty quickly, but personal life things have kept my mind other places. But hopefully you guys keep enjoying this story 💙

Sand shifts beneath Killian’s feet as he runs along the shoreline. The tide hasn’t quite come in yet, the water just missing him as it wades onto the shore, but Skipper is getting soaked with salt water as he runs on his leash in front of Killian. He used to not have to put Skipper on a leash for their morning runs since no one else is on the beach at this time of the morning, but then the damn dog went and swam in the ocean only to get caught up in a rip tide.

So, leash it is even if it makes Killian run faster and harder than he ever intends to.

Bloody hell, his calves are absolutely on fire. He should have run along the boardwalk to save himself from this kind of pain.

“Skip,” Killian whistles. “Slow down, mate.”

The dog obviously doesn’t listen and keeps running, but Killian tugs on his leash until he pulls back, stopping and sitting down in the sand. He’s definitely going to have to be shaved later.

“Good boy,” Killian sighs as he finally catches up to him. “You want to head back home? Are you tired yet? I’m exhausted.”

Skipper barks and sticks out his tongue. Killian takes it as sign enough that it’s time to go home.

The sun begins to rise over the horizon on Killian’s walk home, and he slows his pace to watch the world be coated in shades of orange and pink that are like nothing he’s ever seen replicated. Milah used to try with her paintings. She was always so obsessed with the sun and the way it shaded things differently, and he’d catch her painting the same building over and over again with only the most minute differences. She was a bloody brilliant painter, too, and the more time that goes by, the more he wishes he’d been able to keep just one of her paintings.

He’d given them to her son.

Her son who deserved them much more that Killian ever did. His only hope is that they’re displayed instead of shoved in a supply closet or decaying in a landfill somewhere. Her family had been furious when they found out about him, and he doesn’t blame them.

He felt the same way.

Except Killian was the hidden boyfriend who was driving the car that killed Milah, and he wasn’t exactly welcomed by her family at the funeral. He’d always thought that she didn’t have family, that she had few people just like him, but she apparently had hordes of people in her life.

How can he still harbor love for her when she betrayed him?

When she’s the reason he hasn’t been able to commit himself to anyone since.

Well, there was Tink, but she was exactly the same as Milah in so many ways.

At least she didn’t help in giving him the scars that run up and down his arm and wrap around his hand so that there was a permanent physical reminder of her. She simply, well, sunrises don’t remind him of her in the way they remind him of Milah.

Skipper barks again, and Killian shakes himself out of it before continuing to walk up to the beach. Some of the cabana boys are already dragging out the lounge chair cushions to the beach, and Killian nods at them before turning at the boardwalk and making his way to the shop. He goes through the back door so that obnoxious bell won’t go off, and as soon as they get inside, Killian slips out of his shoes and takes Skipper’s leash off before quietly walking up the stairs.

The lights in the apartment are all still turned off, and Killian uses the dim light of the rising sun to find his way back to his bedroom. The only light in there is the brightness of Emma’s phone shining on her face.

“Why did you get up so early to run this morning?”

He pulls off his sweaty shirt and tosses it in his laundry bin. “I’ve got a full day. I’m down at the marina all day. Why? Did you want to come with?”

“I’m doing a spin class with Ruby tonight, but I do need to start running on the beach again. That is a hell of a workout.”

“You’re telling me. My calves are still on fire.”

Emma hums and keeps typing on her phone. What the hell is she writing this early in the morning? He didn’t even think she’d be awake, but he probably woke her up when he left. Damn. He thought he was being quiet.

“I’m going to take a shower. Do you need to take one?”

“I’m not showering with you, Jones.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

She drops her phone and raises her brow. “I’m sorry. You’re a man who doesn’t want to have shower sex? I think you may actually be a unicorn.”

“It’s a very small shower, love, and I don’t think my knees can take being on the tile. My legs are definitely too tired to have to hold you up.”

“I’m not complaining,” she laughs. “I’ve just never had this happen before. I feel like I need to document it. You can leave the shower on for me. I’ll hop in after.”

Killian raises his hand and salutes at Emma before stripping out of the rest of his clothes and walking into his bathroom. He closes the door behind him and turns on the shower, allowing it to heat up for a minute or two before stepping inside and letting the water pound against his back. It feels better than he imagined it could, and even with this, he knows he’s going to be beyond sore by this evening.

He easily could have stayed in bed with Emma this morning. He could have slept in, had some kind of drowsy, lazy morning sex, and then been on with his day without being sore.

Now that he thinks about it, that would have been the better option.

Then again, the two of them aren’t really wake up in the morning and have sex kind of people. It’s happened, but it almost feels outside of their deal. He’d like to stay inside the deal and within the guidelines of their rules as much as he possibly can.

It’s funny how easy it’s been to fall into this thing with her. It’s usually not like this when he starts sleeping with someone new. There’s a game to be played, no matter how much he’d sometimes rather not play it, but with Emma, it’s not like that. There’s no tip-toeing around each other or questioning motives, not anymore. It is what it is, and they’re both okay with that.

No games may be the most refreshing thing in the world.

Killian quickly scrubs himself down with soap and washes some shampoo in his hair before rinsing it all off. His bathroom door opens, and Emma walks through without a stitch of clothing on.

Bloody hell.

“You almost finished?” she asks, apparently without a care in the world that she’s nearly rendered him speechless.

And possibly changed his thoughts on shower sex, even if that would absolutely be the most uncomfortable thing in the world right now.

“It’s all yours, milady.” He slides open the glass door and grabs a towel while Emma slides by him and steps into the shower. “It may be a little hot.”

“It’s scorching. What is wrong with you?”

“Trying to relieve my sore muscles, love.”

“By burning your skin off?”

“It is not that hot.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs his shampoo bottle. He’s got to stop looking at her if he wants any hope of being able to get dressed comfortably.

“Do you have conditioner?”

Killian bends down and pulls out an old bottle that was left here. “This work?”

She reaches out and grabs it. “Do you have more of this?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because whichever girl left this is my new favorite. This stuff is expensive, and I think I’ll be able to actually brush through my hair now.”

Killian scoffs and adjusts the towel around his waist. “What’s wrong with the stuff in the shower?”

“It’s awful. The fact that you have such good hair is amazing.”

Oh, well, if she’s going to compliment him, he can’t pass that opportunity up. He twists his head and gets in her eyeline, ignoring the way water is dripping off her breasts, and moves his brows up and down.

“Why, darling, who knew you had such a thing for my hair?”

Emma’s nose scrunches up. “Shut up.”

“No, no, I can’t let this go. Tell me, what else do you find attractive about me? I know there must be quite a list since you’ve decided to sleep with me on a regular basis.”

“Again, shut up.”

“Nope. I’m not letting this go now. You find me attractive, Swan, and believe it or not, I actually quite fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me.”

“Don’t you have something to be doing?”

“I have nothing to do but stare at you.”

Emma’s laugh is louder than the spray of water, and he sees her shake her head before she goes back to washing her hair. Killian should shave this morning, but he can put that off until tomorrow when he’s not incredibly distracted by the naked woman showering next to him.

Killian brushes his teeth and dries his hair before walking out of the bathroom, leaving the door open for the steam to waft out, and he gets dressed for work. He’s still got hours until then, but if he puts joggers back on, he’ll not want to go. He knows the families who are coming in today for sailing lessons, and as much as he loves that part of the job, he does not want to deal with a group of twelve-year-old kids today.

The shower water keeps running, and Killian sees Emma out of the corner of his eyes before he opens his bedroom door and softly closes it behind him. The lights in the kitchen are on, and when he gets close enough, he sees Elsa standing over the stove with eggs in the pan. He didn’t even know she’d stayed over last night. He should be paying more attention to that. Then again, he doesn’t want Liam to know who he has staying over, so maybe it’s a good thing that they can quietly go about their business.

When Liam and Elsa get married, though, Killian hopes they either kick him out of here or move into Elsa’s place. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take living with Liam because of situations like this morning, but that’s not exactly an easy conversation to have.

“You making enough for everyone?” Killian asks.

Elsa twists around and smiles. “I’m making enough for me, but if you want some, that’s not a problem. Did you go running this morning?”

“Aye, and yes to the eggs, too.”

“That’s really early for you to go running. I didn’t even know you got up at that time.”

“Love, I almost never sleep in. The Navy will kill that habit before they do anything else.”

“Liam has managed to curb that, I think. That or he fakes sleeping in so I don’t feel lazy when I wake up later than him.”

“I think you may be onto his evil plans.”

She laughs again before plating the eggs in the pan and opening the carton next to her to crack open two more. “Oh, by the way, Emma is coming over this morning to help me with some wedding stuff. Anna is going to call in since that’s all really her cup of tea, but Emma is going to help get me a lower rate on one of the club venues. So, if you could go downstairs and unlock the door for her, that would be great.”

Killian swallows and grabs the plate of eggs from Elsa’s side, seasoning them and adding some cheese. “Isn’t that really more Mary Margaret’s department? The weddings, I mean.”

“Mary Margaret is more passionate about it, but they technically have the same job. Plus, Emma was free to meet me this early so we could talk to Anna at the same time.”

Killian accidentally shakes a little too much salt into his eggs. “When is Emma supposed to be here?”

“In about thirty minutes. Did I say you could have those eggs?”

Killian stuffs some overly salted eggs in his mouth. “I figured you’d want them while they were still hot, so I’d take the old ones.”

Elsa hums and nods. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Don’t I know it?”

Killian stuffs the eggs into his mouth, eating far more quickly than any normal human should, and he’s going to regret it later. But he needs to finish and run back into his room because Emma cannot come out this way if Elsa is in the kitchen.

“Did the water just turn off?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought I heard the water turning off, but I must be hearing things.”

Shit.

“I didn’t hear anything.” Killian puts his half-empty plate down. “These are really good, Els. I’ll be right back, yeah? I need to check my phone.”

She doesn’t say anything, and Killian quickly leaves before she can. He doesn’t know what they’re going to do. Elsa is in the kitchen cooking, and she always likes to eat on the sofa. He can’t exactly tell Elsa to go back to Liam’s bedroom so he can sneak Emma out of the house only to sneak her back in.

What the hell, Emma? Why did she even come over last night? Did she not think this through? They’re going to have to start thinking things through if they don’t want to get everyone else involved. That would be a disaster that neither of them know how to get out of with how nosy their friends are.

When he gets back to his room, Emma is still in the bathroom with her hair wrapped up in a towel as she brushes her teeth. At least he thought to buy her a toothbrush to keep here after last week when she tried to use his.

“Do you want to tell me why you thought it was a good idea to meet Elsa here this early in the morning?”

“Huh?” Emma spits into the sink. “What? Why do you – oh you have egg on your shirt, KJ.”

He looks down and flicks it off. How did that happen? “Swan, why did you stay here last night if you knew you were meeting Elsa this morning?”

“Because then I wouldn’t have to drive from my place?”

“What was your plan? Get up and leave only to come back in two seconds later?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“And what do you plan on doing now since Elsa is awake and sitting in the living room eating her breakfast? She’s not going to leave, and I don’t really see how you plan on getting out.”

Emma’s toothbrush drops to the sink. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“You have to get her out of there. Get her to take Skipper on a walk or something.”

“She has plans to meet you. she won’t have time. Plus, she knows I already went on a run with him.”

“Shit. What am I supposed to do climb out your window?” Killian’s brow arches. Now that’s an idea. “No,” Emma starts, “no, no, no. This is the second floor. I’m not jumping down. What if I break something?”

“You’ll land on the sand, and you only have to drop about ten feet.”

It’s ridiculous, this idea, but he’s starting to think it might be the best one. Killian walks over to the set of windows in his room, opens one up, and looks down at the small ledge. His room drops directly down onto some sand with Liam’s bedroom and the living area completely out of sight, and as long as she doesn’t land terribly, she should be fine.

Yeah, just fine.

Emma’s stare switches between him and the window, but eventually she goes to grab all of her things, either putting them on or holding them in her hands, and makes her way toward the window. She tosses her shoes down first and then her purse. Finally, she climbs over the ledge of the window and looks back at him.

“Next time, we’re staying at my place or we don’t spend the night or something. I am not climbing out of a window for you again.”

“If I stay at your place, what am I going to do about Skipper?”

“Have Liam take care of him.”

“I can’t very well tell Liam I’m spending the night at your place because I’m shagging you, now can I?”

Emma’s eyes roll. “Your British is coming out. And, literally, Jones, just tell him you went home with a woman. It’s not a lie. It’s not the full truth, but it’s not a lie. Most importantly, it means I don’t have to jump from a window so I can talk to Elsa about price packages for her wedding.”

He hates to admit it, but she makes a good point.

They obviously are still working out all of the kinks in this arrangement since neither of them thought them through.

Idiots. The both of them.

“If I break something, you have to clean my apartment for me.”

“I will be happy to, love.”

“And you owe me lunch this week.”

“You can eat all of my extra crisps for the foreseeable future.”

Emma nods and hooks her leg over the window ledge. He hears her swallow, and then she’s climbing down and holding on to the window as she dangles from side of the building.

“You’re lucky that the sex is good, Jones. And that you do manage to entertain me with more than mediocre conversation.”

“There you go complimenting me again.” Killian flashes her a smile and winks. She is definitely going to try to murder him when she gets back up to this apartment. “I’m not the one who scheduled a meeting. This is technically all your fault.”

Emma doesn’t respond. Instead she looks down at the ground and then drops with a subtle thud. When Killian looks down, he sees her standing on her feet brushing the sand off her ass. That’s definitely going to be a devil tomorrow.

Killian chuckles to himself and then closes his window before heading back out of his room. He’s still got to unlock the shop for Emma. Maybe he should get her a key.

Wait, no. That would definitely be taking it too far.

“Your eggs are definitely cold now,” Elsa says as he walks through the living room where she’s now sitting with her food in front of her. His remaining eggs remain untouched next to hers. “I thought you were avoiding that.”

“No, I was avoiding that _for you_. I don’t actually mind because Skipper will eat leftovers anyway.”

“Where is Skipper?”

“He’s probably still wandering around downstairs. I’ll send him up when I unlock everything.”

When Killian finally gets to the front door, Emma is standing outside with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a firm line. God, all he wants to do is laugh, but he does still want to live to see tomorrow.

“Good morning, milady,” Killian sighs. “I’m loving the look. Very natural. The use of sand is just…stunning.”

Okay, maybe he doesn’t want to live to see tomorrow.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I am not doing that again.”

  
  
“As long as you plan things a little better, you won’t have to.”

Emma huffs and brushes past him, but he reaches out and tugs on her wrist until she’s pulling back to him and standing with her hands pressed against his chest. He can see her freckles and the blonde of her eyelashes when she looks like this, and it reminds him of all the times they’ve gone out on the ocean or spent the day at the beach.

It reminds him of how close her lips are to his.

“You have sand in your hair, love.” He reaches up and picks a few pieces out, letting them fall to the ground before he tucks her hair back into place. “How did that happen?”

Emma’s lips part. “I don’t – I – ”

There’s a bark behind the two of them, and they quickly part as Skipper sticks his nose between the two of them.

“I need to go meet Elsa,” Emma finally says as she scratches behind Skip’s ears. “You want to come and talk weddings with us?”

“You know, love, I think I just might.”

“You sure? Anna is very into it, I’ve heard.”

  
  
“Anna is very into everything. It’s part of her charm. This is also her actual job.”

“True. I’m just kind of here to help with finding them a date. They want it to be this summer.”

Killian mock gasps and walks with Emma. “So soon? Do you think my brother has been improper and gotten that nice girl pregnant?”

“I don’t know, but that’s the gossip around these parts.”

“However will they regain a good reputation? Do you think it will affect the business?”

“It might. You best prepare to be making less money.”

  
  
“What the hell are the two of you talking about?” Elsa laughs as they walk into the apartment.

“Oh, just how Liam knocked you up and ruined your reputation.”

Elsa’s eyes roll. “I’m not pregnant, and we don’t live in the 1800s.”

“Still. Such a short engagement. People might get ideas.”

“You’re far too cheeky for it to be this early in the morning,” Elsa sighs. “Do you have sand on your jeans, Emma?”

Killian bites his tongue, but he still can’t hold in his chuckle. Emma reaches over to slap him, but she stops herself right before and places her hand on his shoulder before looking down at her jeans.

They are not smooth.

“Huh,” Emma sighs, “I guess that I do. It was windy this morning. It must have blown over on me. Is Liam joining us?”

“Yeah, he’s getting dressed. I honestly think he might be trying to avoid Anna.”

“Or me,” Emma mumbles so quietly Killian thinks only he hears it.

“What?” Elsa asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” Emma quickly corrects. “I’m going to fix myself some coffee and then we’ll get started. Do you have all your numbers?”

“On my phone, yeah.”

Skipper comes walking up the stairs and sniffs along Killian’s shoes before moving over to Elsa and settling down at her feet. The back bedroom door opens, and Liam walks out. Part of Killian wants to stay for this meeting, to get to know what exactly his brother and Elsa are going to plan for their wedding, but he also doesn’t want to be a witness for the cold shoulder Liam will inevitably give Emma. Killian’s never understood Liam’s problem with Emma, but hopefully the man can keep it together enough to not make some asinine remark when Emma is doing him a favor.

“Well,” Liam smiles, “are we all ready to plan a wedding?”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been taking a little social media, in all forms, break and will continue to do so, but when I’ve got 90% of this story written (I really have to get to finishing it, haha), it felt wrong to keep it from you guys. So I’m slipping in and posting a new chapter! All my love ❤️

“Do you want some of my chips?”

“Hmm?”

“My fries,” Killian corrects. “Do you want some of them?”

“Is that rhetorical question?”

Killian sighs and rolls his eyes before pushing his basket of fries toward her. “Half the time that I offer you my fries, you say no because you’d rather have onion rings. Though, a part of me is surprised you haven’t simply taken over and started eating them without asking.”

Emma reaches over and picks up a fry, dipping it in the ketchup before popping it in her mouth. “Look, just because onion rings are obviously the superior side for junk food doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a well done French fry. And this? This is a well done fry. “Skipper barks at Emma’s feet. “See, Skipper agrees with me.”

“Skipper agrees because he wants you to feed him.”

“He can have my leftovers.”

“Bloody hell no he cannot.” Killian snatches the basket away from her. “I’m sharing _my_ food. You hear that, Swan? It’s mine. You can’t be giving it away to the dog.”

“You should have gotten me some lunch, too.”

“I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“Did I not text you?”

“No, love, I don’t believe I got your booty call.”

Emma picks up another fry and points it in Killian’s face. “This is not a booty call. You’re working, and I’ve got work in thirty minutes. We’re taking the kids to do a relay race on the beach this afternoon, and I don’t think my body can take jumping out the window again.”

Killian chuckles and slides the basket of fries back to him. “I’m going to build you a ladder out of my bedroom.”

“I think that would be a little obvious.”

Killian shrugs. “So, a relay race with dozens of kids. Good to know that I need to avoid the beach.”

“You just wait until we do the weekend festival for Labor Day. Then you’ll really want to avoid the beach.”

“I already have it noted in my calendar.” Killian’s eyes glance up and down her face before landing down at the top of her shirt. The man can be as subtle as a whisper, but sometimes he doesn’t even try. “You know, I can do a lot in thirty minutes.”

Emma scoffs and keeps eating her fries. Okay, Killian’s fries, but he’s sharing so now they’re definitely hers. “I know you can, but I actually look presentable today, and I tend to look not presentable after, you know…”

“After I ravish you?”

Her stomach swirls, and the way Killian’s licking his lips certainly doesn’t help. They could go to the back office or go up to his bedroom right now. It wouldn’t be a big deal. She could let him do all the effort. And as much as she wants to, she really didn’t come here to have sex.

Then again, she doesn’t know why she came here. There was no way she could know that he was going to have food.

Wait no. She came here because it’s been a week since she’s seen him, and she needed someone to complain to about this family that’s in town that takes up all of the booths at Granny’s at least twice a day. She doesn’t treasure much in her life, but she treasures her booth at Granny’s.

But she’s gotten her complaining out, filled him in on everything she hasn’t texted him this week, and really, what else do they have to do?

“Where’s Liam?”

“He’s meeting with the harbormaster.”

Perfect.

“Do not touch my hair,” she tells him. “You do all of the work.”

“Don’t I always do all of the work?”

She tosses a fry at him. He misses it, and Skipper gets up from his spot to get the food. “Considering the fact that I know you like me on top, I’d think not.”

“I also like you on your knees when – ”

The bell to the shop rings behind her, and Emma sees Killian’s face before she turns around. The smirk disappears, his lips falling into a flat line, and all of the mirth in his eyes vanishes along with the crinkles around his eyes.

What the hell?

Is Liam back? She really hopes Liam isn’t back because she does not want to deal with his icy stares and snide comments today.

And then she turns around on the stool she’s sitting on, fry still in her mouth, and sees Isabella Greene.

Oh wait, she went by Tink, didn’t she? Yeah, she definitely went by Tink, which is such an awful nickname, but that’s probably not what she should be focusing on.

Emma’s stomach does that weird flipping thing again and she quickly chews the fry before pushing her hair off her shoulders and straightening her shoulders. What the hell is Tink doing here?

“Tink,” Killian whispers before clearing his throat. “Uh, hello, love. I didn’t – I didn’t know – ”

“You didn’t know I was coming back?”

“I thought you were in New York.”

“I am. I’m not here for the summer or anything. My dad didn’t rent out the house this week, so I’m here with a few friends for the week. You’re not renting out the boat are you?”

Killian can’t stop blinking, and Emma swears that if he didn’t have any semblance of self-control, his mouth would be wide open.

“Let me check. I don’t think it is.” He turns to the computer, hits a few buttons, and Emma takes her eyes away from him to see Skipper walking toward Tink. Tink immediately bends down and scratches his head, murmuring toward him. “You should be good to take it out. It is rented for next weekend, so you’d have to return it by Thursday morning for maintenance.”

“We can do that. Do I need to fill out any paperwork?”

“It’s your dad’s boat, lass.”

“So that’s a no?” she laughs, and Emma swears the woman bats her eyelashes at Killian.

Is batting eyelashes a real thing that works on men? She doesn’t think she’s ever attracted anyone by batting her eyelashes.

“That’s a no. You’ve still got the spare key, aye?”

“I do.”  
  


“Then you’re all set.”

Killian flashes his most charming smile, and Emma doesn’t know if she’s ever felt so invisible. Skipper isn’t even acknowledging her anymore, and Emma is about to demolish all of Killian’s fries in the span of two minutes. Maybe that’s why no one is acknowledging her. She’s some kind of fry hog.

“Thank you, Killian.” Tink leans over the counter in a move Emma’s seen a million times. Hell, she’s done it herself. That works a hell of a lot better than eyelashes. “If you want to grab dinner sometime, you have my number.”

Killian’s eyes finally glance at Emma, but it’s brief. If she hadn’t been paying attention to him, she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Last time I checked, you had a boyfriend.”

“Last time I checked, that didn’t seem to bother you.”

Holy shit, the balls on this woman.

Killian’s jaw clenches, and he’s definitely grinding his teeth now. This is not how she thought this conversation was going to go. She thought she was about to end up as a major third wheel when three minutes ago she was going to be the one with her shorts pulled down and Killian thrusting into her.

But it would be fine if he wanted to sleep with his ex instead. Emma has purposely never learned about his flings, knowing they’re never going to last, but she knew Tink enough to recognize her and to know that if one of them was going to, it was going to be her. She had no idea why it ended, though, and now that she kind of does, she definitely feels like she shouldn’t be here.

Would it be more awkward to get up and leave right now or to stay?

Did Killian know Tink had a boyfriend when he was sleeping with her? Because if he did…oh fuck, if he did she might just have to punch him. She used to think things like that weren’t any of her business, but then Neal and Tamara happened and…no, she’s not going to go there. She hasn’t let her mind fully go there in the month that she’s been broken up with Neal, and she’s certainly not going to do it now.

“Last time I checked,” Killian grits out, “I was unaware of your attachment.”

_Oh._

“He and I were on a break then.”

“Are you now?”

Tink clicks her tongue. “We’re having some issues.”

Oh God, this really is the most awkward Emma has felt in years, and an entire town knows her boyfriend cheated on her and stares at her every time she walks down Main Street. It may have been a month, but the news just broke last week. It has been like reliving it all over again.

At least she hasn’t seen Neal. She’s avoided him at all costs.

Maybe not having her regular seat at Granny’s is a good thing.

“Return the boat by nine on Thursday, Ms. Greene. Have a good week with your friends.”

Tink scoffs, her lips parting, and she leans back and crosses her arms over her chest.

Oh shit, Jones. That was bold.

And then Tink is turning around and walking out the door, the bell ringing behind her.

Emma doesn’t know what to say. Does she say anything at all? What can she say? She just witnessed something she definitely wasn’t supposed to see, and she is not good enough with emotions to be able to deal with this.

Where’s Mary Margaret and her emotional intelligence when Emma needs her?

Even if Emma wants to strangle Mary Margaret half the time when she’s giving some unrealistic perspective on love and relationships.

She could use some of that right now.

“How much time do we have until you have to be at work?” Killian asks as he stands from behind the desk.

“Um, twenty minutes now.”

He tilts his head back toward the office before walking past her and flipping the sign on the door over. “That’s enough time, don’t you think?”

There’s fury in his eyes, and he’s never looked taller to her than he does right now as he looks down at her with his jaw so tight she can see it clenching. He’s angry, she realizes. He’s angry that Tink came in here and tried to start something back up. She has never taken him for the type to get angry about something like that. He’s Killian. He’s got a hell of a temper, gets pissed off when he sees some kind of injustice happening, but he’s always been easygoing when it comes to relationships.

Maybe she really doesn’t know him as well as she thought.

Or, at least, maybe she doesn’t know this facet of his life.

“That’s enough time.”

Killian grabs her hand and pulls her up from her chair. She nearly stumbles, but his grip is strong enough to keep her steady. They walk quickly out of the front office and to the back, where Killian quickly closes the door and turns the lock before he’s on her, caging her in and hovering his lips right over hers while his hands push against the wooden frame. His breathing is so heavy, his chest heaving, and she’s so distracting by it that she barely notices the way her own chest is moving up and down with anticipation.

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” Killian whispers into her ear. His breath is hot as it tickles down her skin. “I’ve thought that since the day we met, but I’ve never been able to tell you the way that I wanted to.”

“You definitely could have.”

“Aye, but you wouldn’t have taken it well.”

“Who says I’m taking it well now?”

Killian laughs into her neck while he rolls his hips into hers. Emma gasps as heat curls between her thighs, licking across her skin. Her heart is pounding, and her head is still reeling. She wasn’t expecting this, then she was, and it’s been back and forth so quickly that maybe she should stop thinking all together.

Hell, she definitely should.

Not thinking means she doesn’t have to focus on the big demons in her head or the smaller ones that are telling her that sleeping with Killian might not be her best idea.

Not thinking means that she can let Killian run his lips across her neck before his teeth tug down on her earlobe. The moment he figured out that she liked that, she was a goner.

The moment they first did this, she was a goner for the way that it feels and the way that she can only focus on the feel of his lips and his hands and of every inch of him covering her. Killian keeps rolling his hips into her, and the friction of the zipper on his jeans his hitting just the right spot.

“Shit,” Emma mumbles as her head tilts back to hit against the door. “Take off your pants.”

“A little busy at the moment, love.”

Suddenly, she notices that his hands are at her waist and fumbling with the zipper on her shorts. She hears it slide down, feels Killian push her shorts and her underwear down, and then his hands are on her exactly where she wants him.

Well, almost. They’re on a bit of a time crunch, so they don’t exactly have time to take it slow.

Her hands reach between them as Killian’s lips fiercely press into hers. He’s determined with each slide of his lips and swipe of his tongue. There’s no laziness or slow exploration, and as much as she likes that, this feels too damn good to stop.

His hand stops hers, and she pulls back from the kiss. “What are you doing?”

“Let me take care of you.”

“What about – ”

“We’ll make up for it at some other time, yeah?”  
  


Emma pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and swallows the lump in her throat. She’s so damn frustrated right now that she can’t imagine saying no.

Not that Killian lets her. His determination continues as he bends down until he’s on his knees and his hand and his lips are working her higher and higher until air is escaping her so that it’s difficult to breathe. Fuck, he’s good at this, and she doesn’t want it to stop.

Pretty much ever.

“Just like that,” Emma groans as her head tilts back to the door. Her knees are getting a little weak, her legs shaking, and she reaches forward to curl her fingers into his hair. “Oh, fuck.”

Her releases crashes over her in small waves, and her legs shake a little more until Killian’s free arm wraps around her and holds her up, pressing her further back into the door. There’s sweat prickling at her temples, and her heart is definitely going to do something unnatural that’s going to put her in the hospital.

She would rather die than tell Whale that she’s in the hospital because of an orgasm.

Damn. Just damn.

“Swan, if you don’t release my hair soon, I’m going to have a bald spot.”

Emma blinks and releases her hand from Killian’s hair, smoothing it down as he helps tug her shorts up. Slowly, he stands from the ground until they’re almost eye-to-eye, and the idiot has the biggest smirk on his face.

At least he’s no longer furious.

“Hey,” Emma hesitates, “so about earlier with Tink – ”

“That’s a story for another time,” he quickly interrupts as he scratches behind his ear. “Why don’t you go to the restroom and straighten yourself up? Wouldn’t want any of the kids asking why you look a wee bit off.”

“Oh, yeah, okay. I’ll go do that.”

Killian’s not in the main part of the office when she finishes up in the bathroom. Skipper is still sitting behind the desk, but she barely looks up when Emma walks by.

Huh.

She’d go upstairs and look for him, but she really had to go and get to work. Mary Margaret will kill her if she’s late, and she’d really rather not be murdered, especially since David will definitely cover things for Mary Margaret.

It’s not a long walk to the club, so Emma’s still the slightest bit shaky when she gets there. Mary Margaret, Ashley, and Aurora are all there and wrangling kids, each of them in matching t-shirts to coordinate teams. Emma’s the green team, and her kids look like they’ve gone crazy with the way they’re running around.

No wonder their parents pay an exuberant amount of money to leave their kids with someone else while they lounge on the beach or work from home while indulging in as many margaritas as possible.

Emma always wonders if these kids care that they don’t spend time with their parents or if they’re too young to truly realize it at the moment.

“Why do we do this?” Emma asks as she walks up to the deck.

“Because we like paychecks.”

“And the children,” Mary Margaret adds in with a bright smile on her face.

“You should have been a teacher, Marg.”

“If I had gone to school, maybe I would have. This pays better, though, and like Ashley, I’m about the paycheck.” Her eyes narrow at Emma. “Did you walk here from your apartment? Your cheeks are flushed.”

“It’s a hot day and I haven’t gotten my tan yet. That’ll happen. You guys ready to go?”

The kids end up loving the relay race.

It’s exhausting, overwhelming, and Emma ends up was an ass full of sand. But it’s so damn fun that Emma doesn’t really care about the craziness of the kids or the way that they didn’t filled up on sugar beforehand.

Okay, she cares a little bit.

But by the time they’re finished, the kids are all exhausted, and Emma and Mary Margaret send them back to the kid’s clubhouse with Ashley and Aurora while the two of them go back to their offices and catch up on emails and phone calls before opening up wedding files for all of their couples this summer. They’ve got a weddings and rehearsal dinners almost every weekend until the middle of September, and right there on the middle weekend is Liam and Elsa’s wedding. They’d wanted to do Labor Day, but that was impossible with the party the club does and all of the town’s labor day weekend festivities. Everything was booked, and there was no way Emma or Mary Margaret could have been there as guests even if they squeezed them into a ballroom.

Elsa said there was no way she wasn’t having the two of them there. Liam would probably not want Emma there, and she swears there was disappointment on his face when they found another weekend.

Ass.

Emma has to take a deep breath and close her eyes as she looks at her calendar. It’s too much looking this far ahead. It’s too much, and she desperately needs to zoom back in and be a little more narrow-sighted.

She can do this.

She’s handled a hell of a lot of stuff that’s been more difficult than this job.

And this is a job. It’s good pay and stable. She loves her coworkers, and she doesn’t actually mind dealing with wealthy people all day or her awful boss or couples who are way too into each other planning their weddings.

She hasn’t been bitter about people getting married and her having to plan it for the entire time she’s worked here, and she’s certainly not going to be bitter about it now because she broke up with Neal. In the back of her mind, she used to hope and wish and maybe…but no. She’s never needed that kind of commitment. If you love someone and want to be with them, you make the commitment and you stay. It doesn’t matter if there’s a piece of paper legalizing that commitment.

Not that Neal was committed.

Obviously not.

“Hey, this says you have tomorrow off,” Mary Margaret says as she looks at Emma from over the top of her computer.”

Emma blinks and shakes her head before pushing her hair back in its ponytail. “I worked Monday this week, so I took tomorrow off to make up for it. I’ll be back to our normal schedule next week.”

“Oh, good, because David was thinking of us hosting a barbecue next Saturday.”

“Next Saturday is Killian’s birthday.”

“Oh shit. Is it?”

“Mhm.” Emma rolls her chair across the office to the mini fridge to grab her bottle of water. “So, unless you want to have the barbecue be his party, I think it’s going to have to be another day.”

“I’ll text Liam and ask if they have any other plans.”

“Why not ask Killian? It’s his birthday?”

“Oh, good point. I guess it’s not a surprise. It’ll have to be late since we all work on Saturdays.”

“Supply us all with coffee and alcohol, and I think we’ll all be able to stay awake.”

“Perfect.”

-/-

When Emma finally gets to leave at nine that night, she’s starving. She didn’t get the chance to sneak into the kitchen and steal some food for dinner, and she’d do awful things for a grilled cheese from Granny’s. Emma makes them at home all the time, but it’s never quite the same. After getting her car out of the parking lot for the public beach, she back downtown to, passing by the packed Rabbit Hole and pulling into Granny’s parking lot only to realize whose car she’s parked next to.

What the hell?

No. Just no.

She is not going in there are dealing with him tonight. Ruby said he’d been hanging around a lot to spend time with Tamara, but Emma thought that was Ruby overexaggerating. Emma hasn’t run into him once, but here he is.

Fuck.

Emma leans down to rest her head against her steering wheel before slowly peaking back up. Neal is right in front of her. He’s sitting in a booth with his dad, Tamara next to him, and Emma nearly vomits at the smiles on all of their faces.

That’s not supposed to be happening.

Tamara is just supposed to be the girl he’s fucking. She’s not supposed to be someone who he’s smiling with and who his dad has dinner with.

Emma barely ever did that.

She didn’t want to. She didn’t trust his dad. She still doesn’t. He’s not a good guy, he creeps Emma out, and she didn’t want to get anywhere near him if his pawn shop does end up being as shady as everyone thinks.

She worked too damn hard to have good things in her life to get pulled down by association.

What the hell is Neal doing?

Was it…did he have feelings for Tamara while he was still with her? Was it more than just someone to sleep with? Because Emma could deal with it when it was just physical. She could push past that. Hell, she did while she still stayed with him. If it was more, though, she’s not sure that she’s up for that.

From the way that her heart is pounding, she knows that she isn’t, that it was more between the two of them.

_Fuck._

Emma slaps her hand down, and the horn on her bug goes off.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

She quickly ducks down and hides herself. They’ve got to be looking out at the parking lot, and maybe if they don’t see her in the car, they won’t think it was her. Her car isn’t exactly inconspicuous, but someone else could drive the same way. The place is full of tourists and outsiders right now. The odds of someone else driving a bright yellow bug have to be pretty good.

Or maybe he’ll think that she’s at the Rabbit Hole but that parking was full so she put her car over here.

Or maybe he’ll know that it’s her and that she’s currently hiding in her own car as if she was the one who ruined her relationship.

What the hell is she doing hiding from him? He should be the one hiding from her, not sitting in her favorite restaurant eating with his dad.

Of course, Tamara does work there, and it’s not like Emma can get the woman fired.

Or could she?

No, that’s wrong. Tamara knew Neal was with Emma, but it’s all on Neal. She’s not going to be the girl who blames the other woman and not the scumbag man.

She’s also not going to be the girl who goes inside the restaurant when she’s had a long day and doesn’t want to fake pleasantries or be the talk of the town’s gossip mill tomorrow. As quietly as she can, Emma turns the key in the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot without looking back at Granny’s. That way she’ll never know if Neal saw her or not, and that’s the only thing that will keep her sane.

She ends up driving in circles around Storybrooke and goes through a drive-thru to get herself a cheeseburger. It’s not the same as going to Granny’s, but it’s good for now. Really, she should go home, clean up a little bit, and go to bed, but she can’t seem to bring herself to. Instead she uses up half a tank of gas aimlessly driving while trying to control her breathing. It’s pretty much a lost cause when each breath is shallower than the next and soon she finds herself in a service station parking lot with her phone in hand typing out a text she definitely shouldn’t be typing out.

He answers back within a few minutes, and his car is pulling up next to hers a quarter of an hour later. He’s silent as he slides into the passenger seat, but she appreciates that. She’s not really sure what she wants to say.

Instead she stares at the tattoo inked across his forearm.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.

She’s always liked that tattoo of his. It’s mixed within all the angry red scars that map out his skin, and there’s something beautiful about the words coexisting with proof of an accident. Maybe one day she’ll hear the story, but for now, all she knows is those words.

Emma’s not sure if she’s getting to fail better or if it’s just the same thing over and over again.

Killian’s slushie is half empty by the time she finally speaks.

“I’m sorry about Tink showing up at your office earlier.”

“It was nothing.”  
  


“Superpower,” Emma murmurs. “And I don’t even need it to tell that’s a lie.”

“I apologize for how I acted afterward. I shouldn’t have…hell, Emma, I shouldn’t use you like that.”

She twists in her seat and turns toward him, resting her cheek against the headrest. “We’re using each other physically. We both know that.”

Killian nods and mimics her movement. “Aye, I know, but on occasion, when I have the chance to think, I realize that sometimes I can be too gruff and too impulsive. Our friendship is first, and I sometimes forget that when I need to release some of the tension.”

“I don’t mind. I promise. I’m the same way. It’s why this is working.”

“What happened tonight that you called me here? It’s nearly midnight.”

“We’ve been here at three in the morning before. Midnight is nothing.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it just as quickly faltered. “Swan.”

It’s so simple, the way he says he last name so frequently, but he could get her to tell him just about anything just like that.

“What did I do wrong to make Neal cheat on me? I know we had drifted apart at the end, that we weren’t sleeping together as much, but I still didn’t…the thought never crossed my mind to cheat on him. And when I found out about it the first time, I let it go. I figured it was physical. But he’s _in a relationship_ with her, and for some reason that makes it all worse.”

So, she went there. Finally. And she doesn’t know whether or not it feels better to get it all off her chest.

“The first problem, love, is thinking there’s any fault of your own.” Killian reaches forward and tucks her hair behind her ear before swiping his thumb across her cheek. “As much as Neal had his moments, I thought he was an asshole. You have always deserved better than someone who puts your down and who betrays your trust like he did. It hurts like hell to be betrayed like that, but you’re going to be better for it.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

Emma blinks and closes her eyes as she makes another attempt to calm her breathing. “Is that how you felt with Tink?”

His tongue clicks. “I had feelings for her, but it wasn’t like it was for you and Neal. Most of the betrayal there was because of something in my past.”

“Oh?”

“Aye, but that’s a story for another time.” His hand runs along her neck until she can feel him gently tugging on some of the strands on her ponytail. “I’m actually a bit glad to see that you’re upset over Neal.”

She opens her eyes then. “You’re glad to see I got my heart broken?”

“If it can be broken, that means it still works.”

Emma swallows the lump in her throat and tries to keep her eyes focused on Killian’s, but his stare is so intense that she squirms and looks down back at his arm and at all of the ink that scatters his skin. It’s safer there. He can’t read her as easily. He’s always been able to do that and has called her out on her shit when he needs to, and she usually appreciates it.

She doesn’t know what she thinks right now.

“Sometimes I don’t want it to work,” she quietly admits as cars keep driving by the two of them, headlights brightening before fading away.

“But it does, love, and I swear to you, one day you’ll want it to again.”


	8. Chapter Eight

“What time are we supposed to be there?”

“Six,” Killian shouts across the apartment, “but it’d probably be nice if we managed to get there early.”

  
  
“It’s your party. They can’t start without you.”

Killian runs his hands through his hair and brushes the front strands back before combing a small amount of gel through it so it’ll stay in place. “It’s a barbecue that I think they realized they were hosting on my birthday at the last minute. It’s not my party.”

“It’s your party, little brother.”

Killian clenches his teeth before he swallows his pride. He’s not going to start something, not now. They’ve had a good day together, and the last thing he needs is to have Liam being passive aggressive to him all night long. He’s been cross for a week now, ever since Killian didn’t come home and asked Liam if he’d let Skipper out in the morning for him.

_“Where were you?” Liam asked._

_“I was with someone,” Killian mumbled as he pushes through the apartment door. “I’ll try to plan better next time.”_

_“Next time? So you’ve found your seasonal woman then?”_

_“Shove it, Liam.”_

_“If you want me to take care of your dog, you at least owe me some answers.”_

_Killian turned on his heel and narrowed his eyes. “My personal life is my own. Question it again at your own peril.”_

_“Oh, so maybe you didn’t find someone. You’re usually cheerier after a night like that.”_

_“Fuck off.”_

He’s got to figure out some kind of plan for Skipper if that’s how Liam is going to be every time Killian doesn’t manage to get home before dawn. That night he’d been sitting in a service station parking lot until seven talking with Emma and had lost track of time, but he’ll have to be more careful.

Or get Emma one of those rope ladders in order to climb out the window.

She’d murder him.

Then again, it’d be better than sending her falling out the window.

The rope ladder, not being murdered.

“It’s a barbecue,” Killian sighs as he grabs a flannel shirt off the hanger and pulls it on. It’s too hot for it now, but it won’t be later. The summer heat fades away as soon as the sun goes down, and he’s certainly not going to complain about it when it’s the best part of any late June day. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. We’ve got to pick up Elsa on our way there.”

“Her apartment is on the other side of town.”

“She’s at the country club with Emma. We’re picking her up, too.”

“Oh?” Killian raises his brow.

Liam furrows his in response. “What?”

“Nothing,” he lies, not wanting to push anything. “Let’s go. You can drive. It’s my birthday, and I’m not about to be the designated driver.”

“Consider it my gift to you.”

Emma and Elsa are waiting for them in the driveway of the club. Elsa’s in the shorts and polo she wears to work, the only thing missing the apron that keeps the ice cream off of her. Emma, however, is in a form-fitting black camisole tucked into a white patterned skirt that’s nearly see-through in the sunlight. He’s got no bloody clue how she got away with wearing that to work unless Regina wasn’t around, but he’s certainly not going to complain.

Except for the fact that they’re about to be in an extremely public place where he can’t enjoy her attire as much as he’d like to.

“Hey,” Elsa greets as she hops into the back of the truck. “Happy birthday, Killian.”

“Thank you, love.” Emma’s door opens behind him, and she slides in. “Do we need to take you by your place so you can change?”

“What? My uniform doesn’t scream birthday barbecue to you?”

“You have a giant ice cream cone on your shoulder.”

Elsa’s eyes roll. “I don’t need to change. We can go.”

“Aye, aye Captain,” Liam sighs, his lips pulled into a bright smile as he stares in the rearview mirror. Elsa chuckles and returns his smile, and Killian looks away. He’s not intruding, but it damn well feels like it.

Elsa and Liam monopolize the conversation on the drive to the Nolans’ as Elsa fills Liam in on everything having to do with the wedding. The thing isn’t for three months, but as he’s been informed over and over again, that isn’t a lot of time when there’s still so much to be done.

(There are pictures of flowers spread out across his kitchen counter with notes written on all of them, and he has no idea how that is going to help come up with a bouquet or arrangements when there are at least fifty options that will lead to endless combinations and possibilities.)

It’s nice to see Liam involved, though. He’s usually so wrapped up in work that he rarely does anything outside of that.

But this is Elsa, and Liam would do anything for Elsa.

He gets that trait from their mum, Killian thinks. She was always beyond loyal to the people she loved even when that was to her own detriment.

They pull onto the road that leads up to the Nolans’ townhome, and Liam finds a spot behind Ariel’s car. She’s already texted him three times today to tell him how excited she is for it to be Killian’s birthday, and he honestly doesn’t think he’s known a singular person to have so much enthusiasm.

Liam and Elsa fall into step ahead of him, Liam’s arm wrapped around Elsa’s shoulder, and Killian feels Emma’s hand brush against his as a shiver inches across his skin. He looks down to see if it’s still there, but it’s not. She’s got it pushed into the pocket of her skirt, and when he glances up, he can see that she’s looking in the opposite direction.

Is she avoiding him?

“Did you have a good day at work?”

“It was fine. Regina was the worst, but otherwise it was fine.”

“Oh? Regina was there today?”

Emma finally turns to him with an arched brow. “Why would you think she wasn’t there?”

“Because she’s rarely there, and I know for a fact that when she is, you have to be a little more uptight with your clothes.”

Emma stops in front of the Nolans’ open front door and crosses her arms over her chest. “What are you saying about my clothes, KJ?”

Killian raises his hands in the air and takes a step back even as he curls his lips into a smile he knows is his most earnest. Well, in a way.

“You cut quite the figure in that outfit, love, but I can also see almost _all_ of your figure in the natural light.”

Her eyes widen and the sunlight glints across them to illuminate the green. “You can what?”

Killian gestures down to her skirt. “I can see the outline of your legs through your skirt, Swan.”

“Can you see my underwear?”

“Eh.” He scratches his ear. “Possibly.”

“Well, shit. I’ve been walking around like this all day. When is the sun going to set so I can stop flashing people?”

“In a few hours.”

“Great. So I’m about to flash all of our friends?”

“Every single person here has seen you in the small scraps of fabric you call a bikini. I think you’ll be fine.”

She tilts her head back, elongating her neck, and groans. “It’s fine, I guess. It’s too late to change now unless I want to wear Mary Margaret’s clothes, and I like this outfit. Happy birthday, by the way. Did you get the cupcakes I sent you?”

“Aye. I had the lemon one. I saved the chocolate one for you. I figured you’d picked that one out for yourself anyway.”

“I am neither confirming nor denying that.”

“I don’t tend to eat chocolate, and you sent me one chocolate cupcake in a group of otherwise nicely flavored cupcakes. It’s pretty clear.”

Emma shrugs, but her lips curl up in the corners. “I’ve got something else for you, too.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

Killian sways closer to her and cocks his head to the side. “Do I get it now or is that happening when you come over to get your cupcake?”

“It’s for now.”

“Why, Swan, so close to all of our friends? That’s risky.”

She presses up on her toes, and he swears her lips brush over his. “I’m not having sex with you for your birthday, but I do have you tickets to a Yankees game in August.”

“Bloody hell. Really?”

“Really.” She presses forward and brushes her lips against his cheek. “Happy birthday, KJ. Feel free to take whoever you want to the game, but if it’s not me, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Killian throws his head back and laughs before leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Emma. “Will is going to fight you for it, but you’re definitely a contender.”

“Good. Now let’s go inside. A whole host of people are waiting inside to celebrate you.”  
  
“I think they’re here for the food.”

“Eh, don’t get into the specifics.”

Emma’s right. There is a host of people waiting inside for him. It’s rare for all of them to have off on the same day, especially a Saturday night, and even if he is not one to want a big celebration for himself, it’s nice to get to catch up with everyone. Though, he does remind himself that this was never intended for him, but that doesn’t matter when the food is good and the beer is cold against his lips.

Ruby and Will are currently arguing over the best way to make a margarita, Mary Margaret is offering to set up a competition between them, and David is insisting that doesn’t happen because Mary Margaret and tequila are not a good combination.

“Oh come on,” Elsa sighs, “let’s do the competition. I want to relive Mary Margaret’s bachelorette weekend.”

“Can’t that wait until your own bachelorette weekend?” David groans.

“Mine is hopefully going to consist of a weekend at the spa and the exact opposite of Mary Margaret’s because Anna is planning it instead of Ruby.”

“Hey,” Ruby scoffs, “what the hell does that mean?”

“I think it means that if anyone is going host a party with gummy dicks, it’s going to be you.”

“I did for mine,” Ariel adds in.

“Wait? What?” Eric looks over at his wife, and Killian hears Emma snicker in the lawn chair next to him. “You had those?”

“I did. They were really good. I think I still have some of the packets stuffed away in a closet somewhere.”

“Ruby can get you some more,” Mary Margaret says. “She’s got a contact at the company who makes them.”

“Liam, it seems like we’re all set for your party then.”

Liam tosses a cube of ice at Killian, but he misses him as it skims behind him. “I might let you plan it, or I might let Rob takeover. He’s less likely to get us arrested.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means law enforcement finds my face kinder than yours,” Robin sighs. “And you do have a tendency to, well, get yourself in trouble.”

“I’ve never gotten myself bloody arrested!”

“Okay,” Will claps, “I think we can all agree that I will be the host as I am the only one of the lot of you who knows how to have a good time.”

“Oh, why don’t we do one together,” Elsa suggests. “We can take out one of the big boats for a day and just hang out. Like this, but better because we’re out on the water. We can find a day where Anna can come down.”

“I think that’s a brilliant idea, darling. Maybe we could find a house and get out of the city for a weekend.” Liam leans over and kisses Elsa’s forehead. “We’ll even let Ruby get the dick gummies if she really has to have that.”

“I do. I also want birthday cake, so birthday boy, can we please finally cut in before I have to take the entire thing for myself?”

“Let’s eat cake,” Killian demands. “And have the margarita contest.”

David slumps down in his chair and covers his face with his hands.

They don’t actually hold a contest, deciding that no one actually wants to see Will and Mary Margaret argue for the rest of the night, but Ruby does get her cake. Killian’s body has to be made up of fifty percent sugar at this point in the day, but he honestly doesn’t care. The sun sets and the backyard is lit only by the string lights hanging above them and the lights shining through the windows in the houses across the street. Rob’s left to meet up with Regina, her son, and Roland, and Eric had to leave to tend to the restaurant but left Ariel behind. She’s taken that as a sign that she has to talk his ear off about next week’s Fourth of July beach festival.

“Don’t you remember when you first moved here and you thought it was the worst thing in the world?”

“I still think it’s the worst thing in the world.”  
  
“But it’s so much fun! The city brings in rides and games, and the firework show. My God, it’s like magic. Plus, Eric makes a killing at the restaurant from all the extra people that come in. Oh, Emma!”

Killian glances behind him and sees Emma walking by with half a hot dog in her mouth. “What?”

“Don’t you think the carnival is so much fun?”

She covers her mouth and keeps chewing as she walks over to them. “I think it has the potential to be fun, but it usually ends with some kid throwing up on my shoes or me having to go into work because Regina is fuming over the festival we do for our members not being as lavish.”

“Oh, come on, the two of you need to lighten up. It’s going to be fun!”

“I will try to muster half of the enthusiasm that you have, love.”

  
  
“That’s all I ask. Are there still hot dogs?”

“A few more, but you’re going to have to fight David for them.”

“Oh, I can definitely take him. I’ll be right back.”

Ariel leaves them, and Emma plops herself down into the chair next to him before propping her feet up on his lap and kicking off her sandals while she continues to eat her food.

“Were you not considering a plate for that?”

“Nope.”

“Classy.”

She shrugs. “I do what I can. So, how’s your night been? I thought you were going to hurl yourself at Liam earlier.”

Killian’s brow raises. “Pardon?”

“When he made that joke about you likely getting them arrested at his bachelor party you looked like you were getting ready to murder him.”

“Did I?”

“I mean, you pretty much always look like you’re going to murder him, but your jaw did that thing where it clenches and moves all broody and angry like.”

He swallows and blinks at Emma, letting his eyes adjust to the ever-darkening night. There must be clouds in the sky for how few stars are showing, and maybe if he stares at it long enough, he won’t have to have this conversation.

He could really use another beer right now.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’d get anyone arrested. You like to play scoundrel, but I’m pretty sure you’ve always been the type to play by the rules.”

“Swan, we both know that’s a lie. Even when I was a buttoned-up Naval lieutenant I still hated not being the one in charge. So many of the damn rules were ridiculous.”

“Like what?”

He draws his finger to his neck. “I would be reprimanded if I had a hickey on my neck. The damn things are unattractive, yes, but I don’t think I deserved to be punished for it.”

“That happen to you a lot then? Your women couldn’t keep their hands off of you? Well, their mouth.”

Emma’s laughing at herself, but he feels his stomach sink with her words. But she doesn’t know. He’s never told her.

And now certainly isn’t the time.

“I think you’d be surprised with how I was when I was younger.”

“Yeah?”

“Aye. I mean, I was still this handsome and charming, but I could keep a woman for longer than a summer.”

“I’m sure you could.”

She shifts her foot on his lap and Killian’s hand falls to her ankle. Her skin is as soft as it always is, and he starts aimlessly drawing on her skin. Does no one believe that he’s capable of more than one-night stands and summer flings?

Though, he doesn’t blame them. He doesn’t exactly believe that about himself. It’s been a long damn time since he was capable of more than that.

A long time since he’s wanted to be.

“But seriously? You two okay?”

He shakes his head and forces a smile. “We’re fine, darling.”

“Superpower, Jones.”

“Can’t it be wrong one time?”

Emma shrugs and takes the last bite out of her hot dog. “It’s probably wrong all the time, but I like to believe in it.”

Killian sighs.

Damn perceptive woman.

“Liam has been a little cross with me since I wasn’t home last week to let Skipper out. He does this. He assumes I’m with some woman and gets irritated because he can’t understand that I’m not like him and can’t find someone like Elsa who I want to marry and settle down with. I don’t know. He’s thought of himself as my father for most of his life, and I know he means well, but his intentions don’t always translate.”

“Was that when you were with me?”

“Aye.”

Emma’s foot moves to shift off of him, but he grabs it and keeps it in place before looking up at her. She’s chewing on her bottom lip and has her head twisted to the side. Light reflects off her cheekbones and illuminates the angles of her face and reaches up into her hair. It’s usually golden like threads from a fairytale, but right now it’s a translucent white that matches the smile he’s usually lucky enough to be graced with.

He’s known many beautiful women in his lifetime, but there is something so undeniably different about Emma Swan.

A yellow wildflower in a garden full of red roses. Some people prefer roses with all of their petals perfectly lined up, but he’s always been a fan of flowers showing up in a place they otherwise do not fit and becoming beautiful all the same.

He’s always preferred a wildflower to a rose.

Emma Swan is undoubtedly a wildflower.

“If I’m coming between you guys…” She trails off and worries her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I don’t want that.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She motions over to where Liam is sitting at a table with Elsa, David, and Mary Margaret. “You and Liam. I’m the woman you’re sleeping with. I’m the one who is keeping you from having this stable relationship you so want. And we both know he would implode if he found any of this out.”

“You are not keeping me from anything. If I wanted something stable, I’d have it.” Killian pushes her foot off of him and leans forward until his face is within inches of hers and he can see the green of her eyes and the freckles on her nose. He likes that there are more nearly every time he sees her. “And last week I was with you because you needed me as a friend. I’m always going to be here for you like that. That’s rule one, isn’t it?”

Emma huffs and blinks up at him before she finally stops chewing on her lip and smiles. “Hey, it’s your birthday. We should be having more fun than this, shouldn’t we?”

And he knows it’s a conversation change. He’s not blind. But he also isn’t in the mood to push Emma right now. She will push back, and it doesn’t always end up being pretty.

“What do you suggest we do then, love?”

“Do you feel like an old school classic with some drinks involved or should we go raid David and Mary Margaret’s game cabinet?”

“Oh, classic, definitely. You want to do the cereal box one?”

“Is that the one where we all have to pick it up with our mouths? That’s kind of unsanitary.”

Killian’s brows raise. “Your mouth has touched many places on me, so I think you’ll be okay.”

Emma scoffs and pushes against his shoulder. “Don’t be gross. We’re going to do ‘Never Have I Ever’ because this is your twenty-eighth birthday, and we’re all super mature.”

“Obviously. We should have let Mary Margaret and Will do their margarita contest in preparation for this.”

“Mary Margaret’s would have won. “

“If you tell Will that, it will devastate him.”

She shrugs and stands up, stepping into her shoes. “I’ll let him keep his pride. Now, c’mon, it’s time to ask each other very pointed embarrassing questions in the spirit of celebrating your birth.”


	9. Chapter Nine

“Do you have on sunscreen?”

“I basically took a bath in it, Marg.”

“You’re looking a little red.”

Emma sighs and looks down at her chest before turning to her shoulders. She’s the slightest bit pink, and she sighs. Dammit. She sprayed herself down twice before she got here, and it’s only been an hour since she’s been outside.

“Do you want to finish the rest of these inside then?”

“We’ve only got a few left, but you need to make sure to reapply before we go out to the festival.”

Emma nods and keeps stuffing bags with water bottles and snacks. They’ve got to get these to Ashley and Aurora before lunchtime and then need to get to the dining rooms to check on their members. Mary Margaret can leave after that since the club is mostly shutting down early to encourage everyone to support local businesses and the festival, but Emma’s got to meet with two brides before she can go. She doesn’t know why the hell they picked her to coordinate over Mary Margaret, and if she got paid by commission, she’d really appreciate that. Since she doesn’t, though, and really only wants to get a tan and eat funnel cake, she’s not too interested in having to talk weddings for a few hours.

“So,” Mary Margaret hums, “have you met the new Sheriff?”

“Nope. David likes him, doesn’t he?”

“David loves him! Oh, Emma, he’s just great! David says he’s organized and always on time, and he’s great at building morale. We had him over for dinner last night, and he was the sweetest thing. Very handsome, too.”

Emma’s hand falters on the bag of animal crackers she’s holding before she drops them in the bag and glances over at Mary Margaret, who is doing her best to avoid looking Emma in the eye.

Smooth, Marg. Real smooth.

“No.”

“No? I didn’t even say anything!”

“You are about as subtle as a gun, Mary Margaret Noland. You’re trying to set me up with the new Sheriff, and I’m not interested. I mean, I just broke up with Neal.”

“A month a half a go!”

“After five years, a month and a half doesn’t seem like that long, does it?”

Mary Margaret finally has the courage to look at her, and Emma wants to be annoyed. She really does. She just can’t seem to find it in her today to do that.

Good intentions, she reminds herself. Mary Margaret and David nearly always have good intentions.

Doesn’t mean she has to like them.

“I’m not ready to date someone, and I don’t think the new Sheriff is rebound material for me.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because you _like_ him, and David works with him. Do you really want for things to be awkward when I inevitably break up with him?”

Mary Margaret’s sigh can probably be heard in Australia. “How do you know you’re going to break up with him?”

“Because I’m not ready to date! I just said that. I’m not too interested in getting hurt again.”

“Oh, Emma, those walls of yours may keep out pain, but they also may keep out love.”

She’s going to crush these poor kids’ animal crackers if her fist doesn’t loosen soon.

Good intentions.

Good intentions.

_Good fucking intentions._

“Marg,” she whispers, “I had my trust ruined by a man I thought I could have been with forever. That doesn’t just go away, okay? You’ve been with David for your entire life. You guys have only been apart for two days in fifteen years. I’m sorry, but you can’t possibly understand what I’m going through right now or how damn hard it is to know that Neal is still in this town walking around with Tamara without a care in the world. I loved him, and that wasn’t enough yet again. So maybe just let me have some time, okay? Let me be able to see Neal walking down the street and not have a meltdown. I’m not ready to seriously date someone else.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean – ”

“It’s fine,” Emma lies as she inhales and tries to get some much-needed air into her lungs. “Let’s just finish up here. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can get to my funnel cakes.”

“You and those funnel cakes.”

“They’re the best part of the holiday.”

“Not the fireworks?”

“Nah, it’s the funnel cakes.”

Mary Margaret drops the conversation, and she miraculously doesn’t bring up anything having to do with relationships for the rest of their day. It’s all updates on the bathroom renovation in the house and David’s new obsession with homemade lasagna, which Granny is definitely going to be pissed about. Then she moves onto Elsa and Liam’s wedding, which does verge a little into the relationship territory but is also their job, so she lets it slide.

Mary Margaret was very much meant to help others plan their wedding days. The sparkle in her eyes alone shows that.

After they check in with the two luncheons that are happening, Mary Margaret takes her leave and goes home, promising to meet Emma at Eric’s restaurant later tonight. Emma’s brides are both early, both far too overenthusiastic, but they keep under their hour-long appointments, and by four, Emma is in her car and on her way home to change and get ready for tonight.

The funnel cakes are still calling her name.

As soon as she gets home, she takes her shoes off at the door, heads back to her room and changes into a bikini before pulling on a pair of jean shorts and an old flannel shirt. It’s too big on her, and when she looks down at it, she realizes it’s Killian’s. For a moment, she considers changing, but it’s comfortable and will be warm for after the sun sets.

Plus, his cologne is still lingering, and he wears some damn good cologne.

It’ll also annoy the hell out of him if she doesn’t give his shirt back, so the benefits of keeping it on continue rolling in.

Getting to the boardwalk is nearly impossible with the roads blocked off for some of the rides and booths that have been brought in, so Emma ends up turning around and driving on the outskirts of downtown before finding parking outside of Killian’s place.

Skipper greets her through the window of a back office, and Emma taps on the window before looping around and heading through the back door so she doesn’t set off that damn alarm.

“Hey, boy,” she greets, “hey, you working hard, my friend? Giving yourself a case for employee of the month?”

“I am employee of the month, always.”

Emma jumps and backs up against the wall to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths to calm her heartbeat.

“Where did you come from?”

“So, my mum and dad, somehow, had sex, and then – ”

“Somehow? Do you think parents don’t have sex? That’s how we all get here.”

“My parents hated each other for most of my life. I can’t imagine them ever liking each other enough to want to sleep together.”

“Hate sex is a thing.”

“I will pay you to stop talking.”

“Really? How much?”

Killian steps up to her and dips his head until his lips brush across the shell of her ear. “Whatever your heart desires.”

A shiver works itself down her spine and up over her arms as gooseflesh appears, and Emma’s breath stutters. “I’ll stop talking if you buy me a funnel cake.”

“I’ll buy you two.” His teeth tug down on her ear before his lips brush against her cheek, and then he’s pulling back and putting some space between them. “Give me twenty minutes to set up the answering machine, and then we’ll walk to Ariel’s together. Can you feed Skipper for me?”

“Is he not coming with us?”  
  


“No, I didn’t want to have to keep up with him tonight, and the fireworks scare him.”

“Do they scare you, buddy?” she says to the dog as she scratches his ears. “They scare you, and your dad is going to make you stay here all by yourself? That’s not very nice.”

“I’ll leave the TV on for him, Swan. He won’t hear a thing.”

“You love Killian so you can’t see his flaws, but a good owner would never leave you.”

Emma snickers as Killian groans behind her. “If you want to walk him for the next several hours, feel free.”

“Nah, I’m good. Is the food upstairs?”

“In the kitchen.”

Emma nods and starts walking up the stairs, whistling so Skipper will follow her up, and when she gets to the kitchen, she finds the bag of food, pours it in the bowl, and then refreshes his water bowl while he eats. A bit of water accidentally splashes on the counter, and Emma picks up the mail that got wet to try to keep it from getting even more wet.

“Going through my mail then?”

“Good God,” Emma breathes out, “do the two of you insist on scaring the shit out of me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Emma sighs, turning around to see Liam. “Your brother just scared me when I walked in the office downstairs. I swear the two of you don’t have footsteps sometimes.”

Liam shrugs. “Is he downstairs?”

“Yeah, he’s making sure everything’s all set for you two to take the night off. Elsa told me you found tuxes you like. You know, if you have enough groomsmen, they might give you a discount on rentals or on yours if you want to buy it. I know you haven’t decided on everyone, but it’s something to think about.”

Liam’s lips press into a forced smile. “I will keep that in mind.”

Silence falls between them, and Emma awkwardly shuffles the mail in her hand before dropping it back to the counter. She doesn’t remember the last time she was in a room alone with just Liam, and really, she should be better at coming up with small talk since she has to do it all day every day.

Or, maybe, she can’t do it now because she’s just so damn tired of doing it and can’t put in the effort.

“So, would you happen to know who my brother is seeing?”

Emma nearly chokes on air. “What?”

“Do you know who Killian is seeing?” Liam repeats, stepping closer as the floor creaks below him. “You two are close, and, I don’t know, he’s keeping who he’s seeing from me, which he’s never done before. I figured you…I guess I was curious and wanted to know.”

Oh God.

No. Just no.

She is not having this conversation, especially when this conversation is about her.

Not that Liam knows that.

Hopefully.

Wait. Is it her? Or is he seeing someone else? He could definitely be seeing someone else at this point. She thought he would have told her, though. That was the agreement.

He definitely would have told her. Killian is a man of his word. Of that, she is sure.

“Is he seeing someone?”

Liam clicks his tongue, and damn, that is such a Jones thing to do. “I assume. He doesn’t come home some nights, occasionally takes a longer lunch than usual, and I swear he’s been sneaking someone in and out.”

_Oh shit._

How many times has Liam almost caught them? That’s not good at all. At least she hasn’t had to jump out the window again. That was a pain in the ass. Literally.

“Look,” she sighs as she straightens her back, “even if did know who he was seeing, it wouldn’t be my place to tell you his secrets. If he’s not telling you, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Liam’s eyes narrow as he crosses his arms over his chest, and if she got a dollar for every time he did that, she’d be rich. “So, he is seeing someone?”

“I don’t know. Let him tell you whatever he wants to tell you. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“Doesn’t hurt to have someone else helping him out.”

“It does if that someone can be overbearing.”

“Are you referring to me?”

“I really feel like I don’t have to say who I’m referring to.”

“Hey, you ready to go? Ariel texted and – oh, hey, Liam.”

Liam blinks, slowly, before turning from Emma to look at Killian. “What did Ariel say?”

“Just that she’s got the big table on the deck saved for all of us. Do you want to walk with us or are you waiting for Elsa?”

“I can walk with the two of you. Elsa is working in a booth, remember?”

“Of course. We’ll have to stop by and get some ice cream after we get Emma her funnel cakes.”

“Funnel cakes, ice cream, and dinner at Eric’s? That’s quite the spread, lass.”

Emma pats her stomach and smirks at Liam. She guesses their conversation from earlier is done. “What can I say? I like food, and the fair only comes to town once a year.”

“I thought the club put on a fair in August.”

“That’s for kids, and we don’t have funnel cakes. Come on, Joneses, I’m ready to go.”

Killian and Liam spend the entire walk talking about a baseball game from last night, and as much as Emma enjoys it, she really only enjoys watching it, not debating about it when the game is over and done with. She knows she’ll have to debate it when she and Killian go to New York next month, but for now, she drowns them out and looks around the boardwalk. String lights are hung above them, criss-crossing between buildings and stalls, and she can’t wait for the sun to set so they can be turned on. There’s something weirdly magical about fairy and bulb lights when they come on, and really, she’s looking forward to that more than the fireworks.

Obviously, she’s got high-standards for things that she enjoys.

Kids keep running in front of them, not looking where they’re going, and Emma almost trips at least twice before Killian tugs her back so she’s not walking slightly ahead of the two of them.

She would have loved being able to do things like this as a kid. It would have made her life just to be able to waste all of her money on these rigged games trying to win a stuffed animal, but she was never given the opportunity. Now, she knows better than to waste money on something she has no need for.

Except for the funnel cakes, which she can now smell.

“KJ, you owe me two funnel cakes. I’m cashing in on one now.”

He turns his head and raises his brow. “Now? We’re about to get dinner?”

Emma points to the stand a few feet ahead of her. “I can smell it. I _need_ it.”

“There’s quite a line at that booth.”

Emma stops walking and tugs on Killian’s t-shirt while batting her eyelashes. She knows it doesn’t work, but it’s all she’s got. “C’mon. The table will still be waiting for us.”

“You two go,” Liam says. “I think I’m going to see if Elsa needs help. She said she her summer staff working, but I’m sure she might like the company.”

“You could also go let those teenagers enjoy the carnival.”

“That was my plan, little brother.”

“Younger.”

Liam winks and smiles. “It’s the same.”

“No, it’s bloody well not,” Killian shouts as Liam walks away, waving as he goes.

“You two have a very weird relationship.”

“You have no idea,” he sighs, wrapping his arm around Emma’s shoulder and pulling her closer until his lips and lightly brushing against her temple, and she swears that he breathes her in. That would be ridiculous, though. “Let’s get you funnel cake one.”

“I would riot if you didn’t.”

The funnel cake is as delicious as she thought it would be, and she doesn’t even care that her lips and her fingers are undoubtedly covered in sugar now. She can look like a clown to everyone as long as she keeps getting to eat this pure, sweet sugar.

Even if Eric is a little agitated with her when they get to the restaurant.

“Are you bringing in outside food to my restaurant?”

“Yep.” She pops another piece in her mouth and makes sure to exaggerate her chewing. “And unless you made onion rings today, this is going to be the best thing here.”  
  


“You do know I am an excellent chef, right? And I can make food other than junk food.”

“She has the palette of a child.” Killian gently tugs on a piece of her hair and pulls her in closer. “Don’t try forcing anything else. It’s not worth it. I, however, will take all of the good food you’ve got.”

“And that is why you’re my favorite.”

  
  
“Hey,” Ariel grumbles.

“Besides you, obviously.” Eric shakes his head and smiles. “You two go sit down. I have to get back to the kitchen.”

“It’s never going to be as good as this funnel cake.”

“Shut up.”

Emma sticks her tongue out at Eric because she is the height of maturity. Obviously.

She maneuvers out of Killian’s hold and walks to the table, pulling out the chair across from Ruby while Killian sits down next to her.

“Why are you two so late? Did you finally decide to fuck each other?”

The funnel cake she was chewing gets stuck in her throat, and Emma starts coughing, doing anything to try to get air while her cheeks have got to be turning the color of tomatoes.

“Ruby,” Mary Margaret hisses, “there are children around. Don’t use that word.”

“Why? That’s how they got here.”

“Funny, I feel like I’ve already had this conversation today.”

“So, you were fu – sleeping together then? I knew it!”

“We,” Emma breathes out as she still hits her chest, “are not sleeping together. Why is your mind always in the gutter?”

Ruby scoffs and picks up her wine. “My mind is not in the gutter. I’m just saying that you two are both very hot, and you’ve got this whole sexual tension thing going on. We’re all waiting for it to happen. One day you’re just going to show up and tell us that you’re secretly in love.”

Emma rolls her eyes as Killian’s hand falls against her thigh underneath the table. “We are not secretly in love. And we are not sleeping together.”

His fingers inch further up her thigh, and a shiver runs down her spine.

Asshole.

Killian is the better liar than Emma, so, really, he should be the one lying to all of their friends right now. It’s not really a conversation she thought would ever come up, but it’s Ruby: nothing is safe.

“I’ve always thought you two would be a nice couple,” Mary Margaret sighs. “I mean, you were always with Neal, so I never said anything but – ”

“Never said anything? You talk about it all the time, honey.”

  
  
“David, that is not true.”

“It is. You love meddling in other people’s business, and since Ruby is, well, Ruby, the only two you really like to plot about are Emma and Killian.”

“Excuse me? Plot?” Killian raises his brow before winking at Emma. “You’ve been plotting about us?”

Mary Margaret’s face is as red as Emma’s was earlier, and if the woman wasn’t at least showing some remorse, Emma would be agitated.

Maybe she still should be, but she’s obviously on some kind of funnel cake high where nothing can piss her off, even having her personal life examined for the second time in one day.

“I have not,” Mary Margaret protests, flustered. “All I want is for you two to be happy! I thought Emma was all settled, and I really wanted someone for Killian. Now, though, you’re both single, so you know…”

Killian’s fingers tickle along her thigh before he squeezes. She really hopes Ariel cannot see underneath the table.

“And Eric says I’m the meddler,” Ariel sighs.

“You are all meddlers,” Emma finally says. “Each and every one of you. You all need hobbies like painting or reading or, hell, crocheting. Anything to keep you occupied so that Killian and I can keep living our lives.”

“Yeah, living your lives totally wrong.” Ruby swishes her wine glass and tilts it toward Emma. “I’m just saying – when, and I do mean when, you two get together, I want a personalized gift and the ability to say ‘I told you so’ as much as I want without reproach.”

“What kind of personalized gift?” Killian asks. “Just so I can prepare for when Emma finally falls for my charms and kisses me.”

Emma laughs and turns to the side, gently pushing Killian’s arm.

Asshole.

Cocky, annoying asshole.

“Please,” she scoffs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

Killian leans in, eyes slanted and lips curled up to the right while his tongue flickers across his teeth. Emma gulps, but she doesn’t blink, even when Killian’s finger hooks inside the hem of her shorts.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Glass rattles as someone smacks the table. “See,” Ruby groans, “just look at all of that untapped chemistry. I feel frustrated just looking at the two of you.”

“Okay,” David squawks, his voice breaking, “please change the subject. There’s only so much of this I can take. It’s like hearing about my little sister’s sex life.”

“See, maybe if you weren’t so overprotective of Emma, it wouldn’t be like that.”

“She’s our friend. I can’t help it if I am. And you’re one to talk, Mary Margaret.”

“What does that mean?”

“We just talked about what it means.”

Killian laughs at their friends bickering before leaning into Emma’s space even more. He never really moved out of it, but she didn’t notice.

“For the record,” he whispers as his nail traces along her skin, “we both know that I can handle it.”

Emma swallows the lump in her throat, and she can suddenly feel her heart beating, faster and faster and faster until she feels it between her ears while she blinks at Killian and tries to form some kind of coherent response.

Where the hell did all of her words go?

“Do you think Eric would hate us if we ordered the pizza?” Ruby asks.

“He just yelled at Emma for bringing in a funnel cake and wanting onion rings, so I think that’s a possibility.”

Killian winks once more and then turns from her so that all she can see is his jawline. “You guys do know this is a seafood restaurant, right? With damn good seafood. He only sells the other things for the tourists. We are not tourists.”

“It’s the fourth of July carnival. We’re all tourists for the night.”

They end up getting the pizza.

Eric is beyond pissed off at it, but absolutely no one cares, especially when Will and Belle walk in and order another one because the first two were completely obliterated. Robin stops by with Roland for five minutes to get food, but then Robin is being dragged off because Roland wants to do go on the spinning tea cups that are set up in city hall’s parking lot.

Emma has eaten so much tonight that she definitely can’t imagine being on anything that spins around.

Especially when Killian still owes her another funnel cake. It’s too bad they don’t keep well in the fridge.

“I have to go make some rounds,” David announces as he stands from the table. “Do we have any other plans for tonight?”

“I have to go back to work,” Ruby says.

“Yeah, me too,” Ariel adds in.

“Belle and I are free.”

“As are Emma and I,” Killian says. “Mary Margaret, what about you?”

“I think I might walk around with David, but do you all want to meet back at your place for the fireworks at ten? I think the roof will be the best place to view them.”

“Sounds perfect, lass. We’ll see you then.”

Belle suggests watching around to work off dinner and see if there’s anything new this year, so they start with the booths on the side of the boardwalk no one has been down yet. It’s emptier because it’s away from all of the rides, but there are plenty of food stalls, a few games, and several booths from small businesses around town. Belle immediately finds a stall selling books for a dollar a piece, and she ends up getting two tote bags that Will grumbles about carrying. Killian buys the one book Belle didn’t snatch up, folds it, and sticks it in the back pocket of his jeans.

Emma swears that Belle nearly has an aneurism over that.

“Hey, look, love.” Killian points over to a booth with balloons pinned to the wall.

“What exactly am I looking at?” He grabs her hand and pulls it in front of them to point back to the booth. “Still not getting it, KJ.”

“The prizes. I think there’s one you might like.”

Emma steps a little closer and then sees it at the very top of the shelf. It’s a giant white swan stuffed animal.

Oh.

Well, yeah, that is kind of cute and very apt for her name, but it’s pointless to look at it. She has no need for a stuffed animal, even if she was thinking about it earlier, and she definitely isn’t about to waste money on it. But it was a nice thought.

“Cute,” Emma laughs as she keeps walking only for Killian to tug on her arm and pull her back. “What? What are you doing?”

His lips curl up. “I’m going to win you that damn swan, _Swan_.”

She rolls her eyes.

He’s an idiot.

Just…a big idiot, but there’s this feeling in her gut, this dumb one that she hates, that wants him to win her the damn swan. She wants to have that experience she so craved as a child, even if she does still think that games like this are still pointless.

_She wants._

In the back of her mind, she thinks back to Neal never even offering to walk around the carnival with her. He always said it was stupid and that he would not be showing up. It was never so much that he wouldn’t come here, but it was more that he was like that with everything that was important to Emma.

How could she be so stupid?

And how could she still feel like she loves him?

Loved him? Definitely loved.

There are no feelings of affection left, not even in memories. She’s just so fucking pissed sometimes.

“Killian, you don’t have to – ”

But he’s not listening to her. Instead, he’s already standing in front of the booth, cash on the table, and darts in his hand.

He pops a balloon on the first try.

“Whoa, were did that aim come from?”

“I’d say the Navy, but I think it might be natural talent.”

The guy in the booth rolls his eyes, but Emma doesn’t care. He’s probably dulled the darts and gotten some kind of indestructible balloons to make sure no one wins anything, but as Emma keeps watching, Killian keeps popping the balloons. It takes him several tries and far too much money, especially when Will rejoins them and starts heckling him, but eventually he gets the stuffed Swan from the top of the rack and hands it to Emma.

It’s so dumb.

(But it’s not.)

(Things like this never are.)

Emma holds onto the swan as they keep walking around until she stops and gets something to drink. Then she hands it to Killian, who holds it in his hand that’s draped over Emma’s shoulder so that the damn beak keeps hitting against her cheek as they walk.

“You’re being obnoxious,” Emma laughs as Killian keeps poking the beak against her cheek. “You’re an actual child, Jones.”

  
  
“I’ve never said I was mature. It might also be all of the sugar I’ve had today.”

“Having one bite of a funnel cake does not count as having a lot of sugar.”

He pokes the beak in her face one more time before she turns on him so she can see the frankly obnoxious grin he’s sporting.

Maybe that little bit of funnel cake was a lot of sugar for him.

“You know, Swan, I used to think you were kind to me, but that thought is disappearing.”

  
  
“Is it now?”

“Mhm.” He wraps the swan around her neck before placing his hands on her hips. Emma glances around, searching for Will and Belle, but they’re nowhere to be seen. When did they run off? “And apparently all of our friends think we have some kind of sexual tension going on, that we’re compatible, and that’s just not true.”

His fingers inch toward her ass, and Emma cranes her neck to try and figure out how long it would take to get to Killian’s place. That’s where they’re supposed to be headed anyway.

“Oh, no, it’s definitely not true. We don’t get along at all. You’re getting a little brave touching my ass right now. I don’t think we can, you know, on the middle of the boardwalk.”

  
  
“Well, we could, but then David would arrest us.”

Emma grabs onto his hand and moves it off her ass. “Then let’s not do that. Let’s – ”

Her words die on the tip of her tongue as her gaze falls upon the last person she ever expected to see here.

Neal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really means so much that you guys continue to read these words and express love. Thank you 💜


	10. Chapter Ten

“Swan? Let’s do what?”

Emma’s lips are parted, and he keeps waiting for her to finish her sentence, to say something. He was rather interested in hearing what exactly she was about to suggest that they do, but she’s no longer paying him any attention.

What could have possibly gotten her attention?

Killian twists his head around to look behind him, and it would be impossible to miss Neal.

Neal and Tamara and the way that they’re standing hand in hand in line for the Ferris wheel like some kind of cliché out of a bad movie that plays on TV every Saturday night.

Well, fuck.

Killian’s hands fall from Emma’s hips before he moves them to her shoulders, tugging on them and trying to get her attention. It doesn’t work at first, but then she’s blinking and shaking her head before snapping her mouth shut, her lips pressed into a firm line.

“Hey, let’s get back to my place, yeah? The fireworks will be soon, and we don’t want Liam and Elsa to get the good spots. Liam’s got that huge head, so he might block the view.”

Her laugh in response is pathetic, and she obviously knows it from the way she overcorrects and attempts to make her laughter genuine. It falls flat. She’s an open book to him sometimes, he wishes all the time, and right now, he knows the path her mind is about to take.

He would know. He’s pretty much paved the damn path for her.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” she hisses, eyes slanting.

“It’s a holiday. Everyone here spends it at the pier.”

“Not Neal. Never Neal. He told me every year that he would never come with me. That asshole.”

Emma pulls away from him, and he loses his grip on her shoulders as she storms off toward Neal. Her swan falls off, and he has to lean down to pick it up.

Bloody hell.

Is he ever going to get to quit chasing this woman?

“Emma,” he shouts before cursing under his breath. He doesn’t need to bring attention to them. “Swan, hey.” He has to jog to catch up to her, tugging on her wrist and pulling her back and away from the main path until they’re standing between two booths.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go yell at that fucking bastard for showing up here with her.”

“That is not going to make you feel better.”

“Really? Because I think getting to tell him that I absolutely despise him would make me feel a hell of a lot better.”

“For a moment, yeah, but then it all goes away and he gets the satisfaction of knowing that he is still affecting you like this.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. He may be a stubborn ass, but she’s the exact same way.

“Really? You’re telling me this? You, who if I remember correctly, had sex with me to forget about your ex when she showed up, is preaching about momentary satisfaction not being good enough.”

Killian flexes his hand and tries to keep it from balling up into a fist. He’s got the stuffed swan in his left hand, and it’s already straining from how he’s clenching it. Damn thing. He hates how easily it hurts now.

He hates that this is the way Emma is about to be, but if she’s going to have to realize that he’s more than capable of giving what he gets.

Stepping closer to her, Killian dips his head down until his looking into Emma’s eyes. “Aye, that I did, but I was not the first to do it and I also regretted treating you like that. I think it may be smart for you to remember that before you decide to throw stones at me because you’re upset with Neal.”

Her jaw clenches, and her eyes cut away from him. He can feel the heat radiating off of her, and her chest heaves as she breathes. There’s this part of him, something he knows is primal, that can’t look past the way her breasts look as they move or the way that he can see her stomach when he looks down. She’s been wearing a bloody bikini all night, the flannel shirt on top of it not at all buttoned, and he’s tried not to think too much of it.

He has spectacularly failed. The woman is a temptress.

But she is also his best mate, and none of that is what he should be focusing on since it doesn’t even make the list of his priorities at the moment.

“I think I need to be alone.”

“Swan – ”

“It’s…you’re fine. We’re fine. I’ll be on the rooftop at ten like I’m supposed to be so we can all watch explosions in the sky. I just need some time to breathe.”

“Emma.”

She finally looks at him. “I’m not going to talk to Neal. I promise. See you later, okay?”

“In half an hour, love. I’ll save you a seat.”

“Good.”

And then she’s walking away and turning in the opposite direction of Neal and Tamara. Killian, however, can’t seem to do that.

He’s seen Emma upset more times in the past month and a half than he has in the past five years. There have been times when she’s broody and annoyed and mad as hell, occasionally at him, but it’s never been like what he’s seen lately.

It’s never been heartbreak that she’s been attempting to hide.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s never cared this much either.

Right now, though, all he can think about is what a fucking idiot Neal has to be to cheat on Emma and to keep doing things that are going to upset her.

She doesn’t deserve it. No one does.

Well, Neal Cassidy might.

He and Tamara are still standing in line at the Ferris wheel, but Killian now realizes that they’re not in line at all. They’re simply standing there talking with Neal’s hand on Tamara’s ass as she throws her head back in laughter.

If Emma wanted Neal to come here every year, Killian can’t understand why he wouldn’t. They were together for half a decade, and the man couldn’t come once? It’s not asking much. Hell, it’s barely asking anything.

But he’s here with the woman he was sleeping with behind Emma’s back?

Maybe he should have let Emma tell him off because that would feel so damn good right now.

Breathing in, Killian pushes down the urge to walk toward Neal and decides to walk past him. Momentary satisfaction, he reminds himself. If he discouraged Emma from doing it, he can’t be the hypocrite.

Damn does he want to be.

Fortunately, or unfortunately really, for him, Neal seems to want to let him have the opportunity.

“Hey, Jones.”

_Fuck._

Killian stops walking and slowly turns on his heels. Cassidy is walking toward him, his girlfriend staying back where they were standing, and Killian is definitely going to rip the head off of this swan before the night is over.

Better it than Neal, he guesses.

(Logistically. He would much rather rip the bastard’s head off, but he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison.)

“Cassidy,” Killian greets, but he doesn’t offer anything else.

Neal smiles and laughs before sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging. Is he trying to look nice? Because it sure as hell isn’t working.

“Can I talk to you for a minute? In private.”

“You can talk, but you can talk here. I’ve got somewhere to be in a few minutes.”

Neal’s eyes narrow, and he looks down at Killian’s hand. Out of instinct, Killian wants to pull his shirtsleeves down and cover his scars, but that’s not what Neal is looking at.

“Look, man,” Neal sighs, that same, insincere smile on his face, “I saw you walking around earlier with Emma, and I feel like I’ve got to warn you.”

Oh, this asshole definitely deserves to have his head ripped off.

“Pardon?”

“You and Emma.” He shrugs again while Killian straightens his shoulders. “I always kind of knew you two had a thing going on, but I didn’t believe it until I saw you walking around with her earlier. I’m cool with it and all, but I don’t think you know what you’re getting into with her. There are a hell of a lot consequences when it comes to choosing to be with Emma, and they’re not good ones.”

Killian swallows as his teeth start to grind. What kind of bastard is this man? Who the hell does he think he is to tell Killian that there are consequences to being with Emma? Killian wants to laugh, he really does. He wants to laugh and tell Neal that he has no idea what he’s talking about since Killian is most definitely not with Emma.

Mostly, he wants to knock the man’s front teeth out and break his fucking nose. He used to not be this bad. Killian was rarely a fan, but Neal had his redeeming qualities. They could have been friends in a way.

He doesn’t mourn the lost opportunity there.

“What could you possibly know about choosing Emma?” Killian sneers, stepping into Neal’s space. “Because it seems to me that you didn’t, that you did the opposite of that, and for you to think that you have any right to what she does with her life has got to be the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“So, you are fucking her then? I was right.”

It’s like he’s just been slapped across the cheek.

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“You wouldn’t be defending her like that if you weren’t.”

He scoffs and closes his eyes, his breathing heavy. “You said there were consequences to choosing Emma, aye? Well, I would still choose her every damn time even though I’m not with her. You, on the other hand, left, and the _consequences_ of that mean I never want to hear about you trying to interfere with her life again. Go spend time with your girlfriend, Cassidy. I’m sure she’d love to know that you’re still hung up the woman you left to be with her.”

“Fuck you.”

Killian bites his tongue and focuses on the feel of the stuffed swan in his hand to keep him from doing something stupid.

“Emma has always deserved better than you. It’s a shame it took you hurting her to see it. Fuck off, Neal. I think it’s time that you moved on.”

“Neal?” Tamara calls from behind them. “Is everything okay?”

Neal blinks, slowly, and then the smile on his face transforms from sinister to charming. “Just catching up with an old friend.”

And then he walks away and goes back to Tamara.

Killian has no idea what just happened. All he knows is that he’s pissed off, still desperately wants to break Neal’s nose, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to act normal around everyone when they’re watching the fireworks.

He just really needs a damn drink.

But he is not paying for an overpriced one when he’s got perfectly good rum at home.

It’s easy to get back to his apartment once he gets out of the crowd. It’s quieter, too, and he can hear voices coming from the rooftop already. The darkness of the night makes it impossible to tell who’s up there, but he’ll find out soon enough. When he walks inside and makes his way upstairs, Skipper is asleep on the couch. He doesn’t bother to do more than lift his head when Killian comes in. Some guard dog.

Killian puts the swan down on the kitchen island, reaches into the cabinets for a bottle of rum, and takes a long sip. He doesn’t need a glass, not yet.

“You planning on sharing that?” Emma asks.

Shit. He didn’t even know she was here yet, but she’s sitting in the dark corner of the living room with her knees pulled to her chest.

“Do you want some?”

“You don’t have my wine, so yeah, yeah I do.”

She stands from the chair and walks over to him, grabbing the bottle out of his hand before taking a long, slow sip. She’s usually not much of a rum drinker, but it does happen on occasion.

“Why aren’t you up on the roof with the others?”

“Didn’t feel like climbing up there yet. You know, it’s really a shame that the fire escape is not on the side of the building that your room is on. Would have saved me once or twice.”

“I’ll have a talk with whoever built this place a few decades ago.”

She huffs and takes another sip before putting the bottle on the counter. “I wasn’t ready to see everyone. I don’t know. I felt like maybe I couldn’t keep it together, and I…well, I felt really damn pathetic.”

“Hey, hey, no, don’t do that. I – ” Killian sighs and reaches forward to put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “Do you want to go to my room and talk? I know we don’t have our slushies, but I think it can still work.”

“To talk or to…”

His lips press together. “To talk, love. Come on.”

Killian gently pushes Emma out of the kitchen until she’s walking toward his bedroom. He grabs the swan off the counter as a last-minute thought before following her. She doesn’t turn on the lights, so he doesn’t either. Instead he moves to open the curtains on all of his windows so that moonlight filters through. The fireworks will be starting soon, and he doesn’t want to miss them. He’s got a pretty good feeling they won’t make it up to the roof tonight, but he’s fine with that.

His mattress squeaks as Emma settles down, and it shifts when he joins her, the both of them settling against the headboard and under the comforter. It’s silent for awhile, and while Killian thinks Emma is going to take the lead, he finally realizes that she isn’t.

For once, it might have to be him making the first move.

Out of the corner of his eyes, his scars flash silver in the moonlight, and all of the sudden, Killian has this unbelievable need to share something he hasn’t talked about in years.

Something he’s never wanted to tell Emma before, but now, it’s all he can think about.

“Do you know how I got the scars on my arm, love?”

She twists her head. He’s not looking at her, but he can feel her gaze on his face instead of his arm. “No.”

“I was in an accident.”

“When you were in the Navy?”

Killian clicks his tongue. If only.

If only it had been that. He imagines that might be easier to deal with when it’s all said and done, but that’s not at all what happened.

“It was a car accident, actually.” He swallows and braces himself. If he focuses on simply staring at the painting of a sailboat hanging above his television, he might be able to get through this. “I was with my girlfriend at the time. Her name was Milah. We’d been out to dinner, and I was driving us back to my place. The roads were empty. I swear, I’d never even seen them that empty, and our light turned green so I started driving when an SUV ran a red light and crashed right into us in the intersection. I don’t actually know what happened after that, but the police report said we flipped several times before hitting a tree.”

A soft, small hand brushes against his own, and he spreads his fingers so Emma can twine hers together with his. It’s the most comfort he’s felt in ages, so he doesn’t stop himself when he brings their joined hands to his lips.

“Milah died in that accident, while all that happened to me was my hand getting caught in the door and shards of glass leaving some pretty nasty scars. I don’t even know how I stood up again after Liam told me she was gone. I didn’t think I would survive. I was so young and in love, and I thought she and I had the entire world in front of us.”

Emma squeezes his hand, and really, it’s better that way instead of her trying to say anything.

That’s not why he’s sharing this.

“I was so heartbroken. I’d never felt pain like that before, but then, as I started to make funeral arrangements, I got a call from her husband telling me that I was not welcome. I didn’t know she had a husband, that she had a son either, and it was like I was grieving two different things: the woman I’d lost and the woman I thought I knew.”

“Killian.”

“Don’t,” he whispers, pulling their arms over Emma’s shoulder and tugging her closer. “Don’t say anything. I don’t want pity. I simply felt like you deserved to know this about me and to know why I am so unbelievably fucked up when it comes to relationships. I loved a woman who lied to me for years, and I loved her still even after I knew about it. That anger you feel toward Neal? The one that’s mixed with betrayal and sadness and this underlying love, I have felt it. Sometimes I still do, and you are not pathetic for feeling anything that you’re feeling. I don’t care how many times we have to have this conversation. I will tell you the same thing every damn time.”

“Maybe one day I’ll actually be able to listen to you and believe it.”

“It takes time, and while I’m sure one of our friends is much better equip to understand emotions, I know that I understand _you_ , Emma. I always have, and though you piss me off half the time, I’m never going to judge you for anything.”

She sighs, her shoulders moving with it, and then she leans her head over to his shoulder, strands of her hair tickling his chin, and Killian tugs her closer before brushing his lips against her forehead. There’s a loud whistle outside and then an explosion of light that flickers down over and over again as the fireworks show starts. the view isn’t quite the same from in here, the height of the windows not quite right, but he’s not going to complain. There are things much more important than lights in the sky.

“Do you want to hear something stupid?” Emma suddenly asks.

“I always want to hear something stupid.”

“I’ve never won a stuffed animal before. Hell, I’ve never even had one as a kid.”

Suddenly, he gets why it was such a big deal to Emma that Neal come with her to the festival. He understood, partially, but sometimes he forgets that Emma’s childhood wasn’t ideal. It was hard and painful from the few things he’s been honored to hear from her, and even with how much his sucked, it wasn’t like Emma’s. He at least had a few good experiences before his mum died and before his father became one of the biggest asses in the world.

It’s not a competition in who has had a shittier life, but it does help him keep on understanding her. A few days ago she made some off-hand comment about having a few minor run-ins with the law as a teenager, something about stealing food from convenience stories, and it clicked in his mind why she doesn’t like when Neal works at the pawn shop.

She doesn’t want to fall back into her past, and she doesn’t want to take any risks that are going to lead her there.

Knowing that and knowing that Neal must have known too, makes Killian seriously regret not breaking the man’s nose.

“It’s not stupid, love. If it’s important to you, in any way, it’s important to me.”

Her laugh is lost amongst the sound of the fireworks, but he still hears it. It’s a good sound to be able to hear.

“I always wanted to get to play the games as a kid, but I didn’t have the money. So, I don’t know. It was nice. It was stupid, but it was nice. I’ll have to find a place to put it in my apartment even though I’m not sure where in my apartment it would go.”

“On that chair in your bedroom where you put all the clothes you’re supposed to put up but never do.”

“Shut up. Just accept that I’m thankful for it. Don’t make fun of my laundry habits.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll win you however many stuffed animals your heart desires. No questions asked.”

“Then I expect several next year.”

Killian laughs into her hair as something unfamiliar settles in his stomach. “It’s a deal.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

“What do you think about – ”

Killian’s fingers flutter across her hip, nails curving into her, and Emma shifts on the mattress, angling her hips closer to him and sticking her left leg between his. The hair on his legs brushes across her skin, and she loops an arm around his stomach, tugging on his chest hair with her fingers as she props her head up with her free hand. Killian tugs her closer, and she grumbles as his hand settles more firmly on her ass.

“What do I think about what, love?”

“Well, maybe if you’d let me finish instead of feeling me up, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

His hand squeezes her again, and Emma would squirm out of his grasp. She really would. She simply can’t find the motivation to.

He flashes her a smile, the small light breaking through her closed blinds making his teeth shine almost blindingly white, and she can still see the sleep in his eyes, the blue as bright as usual but somehow the slightest bit duller than usual, an impossibility that is somehow possible.

Damn charming idiot.

“Me? Let you keep talking? I’d never do that.”

Emma tugs on his hair. “Shut up.”

“I think we just established that’s the opposite of what I want.”

Emma rolls her eyes and shifts a little closer to Killian so that she can lean down and brush her lips over his collarbone before moving back until her lips touch the ink on his back.

“I was thinking,” Emma repeats against his skin, “that it’s a Monday, you and I both have the day off, all of the fourth of July tourists are gone, and that we should get some takeout and borrow one of the boats you guys have stored in the marina.”

His fingers move over her ass again, sinking down just far enough that Emma gasps as he ghosts over warm flesh in a teasing touch that might promise so much more if she plays her cards right.

Or wrong.

Or not at all.

All she has to do is ask. Killian isn’t really one to say no.

He hums as his fingers keep moving and as his lips brush against her forehead, light, fleeting, almost invisible. “Liam would love that.”

“Please. Liam has done it before. Elsa talks about all the times they’ve gone out. Hell, we go out with everybody all the time.”

“Ah, yes, but that is Liam, and the rules are a little different for him.” Heat burns low in her belly as he keeps teasing her, and she feels it simmer across her skin. The room is suddenly warmer than it was, her air conditioning and ceiling fan not doing the work they’re supposed to be doing. “However, I’ve never been one for following the rules when I know how to bend them.”

“Scoundrel.”

“Or dashing rapscallion.”

“Same thing.”

He winks and she laughs. His fingers keep moving, and Emma shifts over him, settling herself on top of Killian so that his hand slips away but she can feel the delicious friction of Killian brushing up against her. God, this is not helping how hot she is. Leaning back, she purposely rolls her hips and listens to Killian groan. It’s deep and guttural, and the sound reverberates around the room and settles heavily in her throat so that she has to swallow it down. His jawline is sharpened by his scruff that he shaved yesterday, and he tilts back into the pillow as his eyes shut.

“So, what do you say, KJ?” she whispers. “You want to run away from the world and take me out on some rich person’s boat?”

“For you, sweetheart, I think we can do that.” His hands grab onto her hips and suddenly he’s lifting her off of him until she’s on her side on the mattress and Killian’s back is brushing up against her as his lips run hotly across her neck and his hand grabs onto her breast, fingers moving over her peak and driving her higher and higher far quicker than he has any right to. “But it’s still early, and I’ve had other plans in mind since before you started your hour-long saga about Ruby’s date with Mulan last week.”

“It wasn’t an hour.”

“It certainly felt like one.”

“It was not.” She tries to lean away from him to grapple for her phone, but he tugs her back until she can feel all of him brushing up against him. His breath is warm against her neck, and suddenly, she’s not so bothered by the heat anymore. “You’re not going to let me check my phone to prove a point?”

“Swan, can you be quiet for just one minute?”

“One minute? If that’s all it’s going to take, I’m not sure I want you to be my fuck buddy anymore.”

His hand and his lips still, but it’s only for a second. She wouldn’t have even noticed if she weren’t so damn turned on right now and if there wasn’t a distinct lack of coffee running through her system, but she quickly forgets any qualms when Killian lifts her leg over his hip and he’s brushing against her right where she wants him.

_Fuck._

“You’re usually not so talkative in the mornings,” Killian whispers into her ear before she turns her head so that his lips brush over. It’s soft, gentle even, and she keeps waiting for Killian to hurry, but he doesn’t. “Are you still tired? You called pretty late last night.”

“Killian?”

“Hmm?”

“I think it’s your turn to shut up.”  
  


He laughs into the kiss, and she does the same. But then he’s sliding into her, slowly, slowly, slowly, and she loses all of her breath at the feeling of him inside of him, warm and thick and full. He retreats for a moment, but then he’s rocking back into her, slow and steady and so damn delicious that she has to dig her nails into the sheets to keep herself from writhing.

Killian likes when she does that, though, likes a lot of things about how she is behind closed doors and underneath the sheets, and her cheeks flush at the thought. He’s usually one for her being on top or him taking her fully from behind so he can bury himself inside her, but this, she likes this, too.

“Hmm, you feel good,” she mumbles against his mouth as he keeps kissing her, the movement as slow as the thrust of his hips. She tangles her other hand in his hair and pulls him closer as her nose presses into his cheek.

“Now, I’ve certainly heard that one before.”

She pushes her hips back in response, and Killian bites down on her bottom lip as his hips begin a steadier, smoother rhythm that has her gasping for air and wondering why the hell they haven’t been doing this for longer.

Warmth continues to spread over her, and while there’s sweat pooling at her lower back and across her forehead, there’s a warmth that she can’t quite explain, one that she doesn’t necessarily want to.

It’s easier not to.

Killian’s hand palms her breasts once more while his other hand trails down her stomach, scratching across the smooth planes of her stomach before going just low enough that she definitely can’t breathe anymore as her body keeps reaching for that high.

It’s not long before she finds it, and Killian swallows her cry with his kiss, his tongue soothing it away as that warmth spreads even further and his hips keep slowly snapping to work her through it and have him find his own high.

God, it’s so good that it would be totally unfair for him not to feel this way too.

When it’s over and Emma is still boneless, she flops onto her stomach and buries her face in her pillow as her heartbeat still tries to calm. She can feel Killian’s lips on her back, and he moves down, tracing her skin with his mouth before he buries his face just above her ass while his arm loops over her.

She doesn’t want to move for the rest of the day.

This. This is all she wants.

“Can you carry me to the bathroom to clean up?”

Killian huffs against her. “Give me five minutes, and then I can.”

“For someone who has a pretty fast recovery time, that’s a little slow on you getting the strength in your legs back.”

“I ran on the beach last night. I’m still sore.”

She reaches back and pats his head. “Poor baby. How ever will you survive?”

His teeth bite into her skin, and Emma squirms away, moving out of his hold and nearly falling to the floor. She catches herself at the last minute, but only by sticking her leg down to the ground.

“You were saying, Swan?”

“Ass.” She finishes rolling off the bed and stands up. She might as well. “Do you want to shower before we go steal a boat?”

“Borrow. We’re borrowing one. I have to pay a fee.”

“You have to pay a fee to your own business.”

  
  
“Aye. That’s how it works.”

“Huh. Okay, well, get some cash out of my jar on the bookshelf, and I’ll pay for half of it.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It was my idea. Technically, I should be paying for all of it. But half is good.”

He nods and rolls back. The light is now hitting the ink on his hip as well as the ones on his arms, and really, she should dedicate more time to tracing that damn compass. “And I won’t shower here. I’ll rinse off at the docks.”

Emma raises her hand and salutes. “Aye, aye, Captain. I’m going to shower, so you can do whatever you want. I think I might possibly have cereal.”

“I would be surprised if you did. You need to go to the market.”

Emma shrugs. “I get fed at work or by you. I really don’t think I do.”

Emma leaves Killian in her bed to walk to the bathroom and shower. She takes the time to shave since she’s going to be in a bikini all day. Halfway through she wonders if it’s really worth it since she’s it’ll only be Killian around. She’s nearly there, though, so she finishes before turning the water off and running a towel up and down her body. She doesn’t bother wrapping herself in it when she walks back to the bedroom and digs out a white bikini from the back. She really needs some new ones, but this is an old favorite. After she puts it on and ties it, she finds a pair of jean shorts and a button-down before walking down the hallway to her kitchen.

Killian’s standing at the counter, spoon hanging out of his mouth, and she’s genuinely impressed by the fact that she actually had both cereal and milk.

It’s pretty much a miracle.

“I’m ready to go when you are. Where do you want to get takeout from?”

“Granny’s?”

“A man after my own heart.”

The spoon falls from his mouth, metal clanging against her countertops, and she swears that Killian’s body stiffens before he shakes himself out of it and reaches over for the spoon.

What the hell was that?

  
  
“Clumsy, much?” she teases.

“Don’t make fun of me, love. I will be the one driving us today, and if memory recalls, you have no clue how to drive out on the waters.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll have to teach me.”

By the time they’re down at the marina, it’s past noon. Emma has a bag full of towels, sunscreen, and drinks, as well as their takeout from Granny’s, and Killian’s got Skipper on his leash. The dog keeps trying to jump into the water, and Emma has no idea how he’s going to deal when they’re actually out in the middle of the ocean.

Seems like a disaster waiting to happen.

Killian steps onto a small, clean boat. It’s only got a seat for a driver behind the steering wheel and then a small, built-in section of cushions at the back, and after taking his hand to get on, Emma settles down there with Skipper, who is more focused on trying to get their food than anything else. Killian slowly drives them out away from the docks. He waves to several people on the way out, ones they’ve both worked with enough to recognize them as they lounge on their boats, and then they’re breaking away from everything and to the calm of a still ocean and the sun shining down on her skin.

This is exactly what she’s needed.

This summer is non-stop. She has barely had any kind of break where she could have a full day to herself. Hell, she hasn’t really wanted that. A day to herself means a day to overthink everything that’s currently happening, and she doesn’t need that.

What she needs is to stretch out on a towel and let the sun bake into her skin while the boat gently rocks beneath her and salt water splashes over her skin to keep her from getting too hot.

If only she could be a tourist in this town and have this be her everyday reality.

“Swan, if you leave your food sitting out, Skip is definitely going to eat it all.”

Emma rolls over on her side and opens her eyes to squint at Killian. “Is that your way of saying you’re going to eat my food?”

  
  
“Never. Mine is better anyway.”

Her eyes roll, and she sits up on the towel before standing and walking over to sit on the cushions next to Killian and Skipper. She grabs her food out of the bag, as well as a bottle of water, and opens the container to grab an onion ring. Skipper is definitely eyeing her onion ring, but that’s not happening.

These are too precious for that.

“Oh my God, did I tell you who I saw at Granny’s?”

Killian shakes his head and adjusts the aviators on his face before stretching his arms above his head, his muscles pulling at the movement.

That isn’t distracting at all.

“Who?”

“Have you met the new sheriff? Graham something? I think it starts with an H. Um – ”

“Humbert, I believe.”

  
  
“That’s it! Anyway, so he was at the counter getting food for him and David, and he introduced himself. Like, he knew who I was and everything, and I’m 100% sure Marg didn’t listen to me when I told her I didn’t want to be set up with him.”

Killian’s arms fall down to his lap. “Pardon?”

“Oh, did I not tell you? Mary Margaret was really into setting me up with him a few weeks ago. I think it was on the fourth, but I told her I wasn’t interested in it. She has obviously put the wheels in motion, though. Or David is super weird and has a picture of me on his desk or something.”

  
  
“I feel like one of those is more likely than the other.”

Emma shrugs and bites into an onion ring. “Maybe. It was so weird, though, because I could tell he was trying to flirt, but it’s like I had no idea how to respond.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and props his foot up on the small table. “You mean, you didn’t flirt back?”

“Why would I flirt back?”

“Because you’re a single woman and an attractive man was into you. Flirting seems like the right thing to be doing.”

Emma swallows and puts her container of food down. She closes it so Skipper can’t get into it and then crosses her legs underneath her. “How do you know he was attractive?”

“I’ve seen him around. He looks like your type.”

“My type?”

“I know you’re partial to men in leather jackets with facial hair.”

She scoffs and crosses her arms, onion ring dangling from her finger. “Are you jealous?”  
  


She can’t see his eyes from underneath his sunglasses, but his forehead wrinkles and his brows peak up enough for her to know they’re rising. She probably shouldn’t have asked that question. She was kidding, but Killian does not seem amused.

“Why the hell would I be jealous?”

“It was a joke, KJ. You don’t need to get all defensive about it. I know you’re not jealous because we’re not – you know…whatever.”

“No, no, we’re not, so I’m not bloody jealous. If you want to go on a date with the Sheriff, you should go.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Fine.”

  
  
“Fine?”

“Yeah, fine.” Killian rises from the seat and walks back toward wheel on the boat. “What kind of music do you want to listen to?”

Holy whiplash Batman.

Where did that conversation even come from?  
  


And how the hell did it end?

“Whatever you want. You know I always trust what you pick.”

He nods and thumbs through his phone until she hears the familiar sounds of John Mellencamp playing through the portable speaker Killian always brings out.

“So old school today?”

“Mhm.” He steps down the small step and reaches for Emma’s hand that is now onion-ring free. When she doesn’t take it, he flexes his fingers. “C’mon.”

“What are you trying to do, exactly?”

“I’m asking you to dance.”

  
  
“Why the hell would you ask me to dance? You’ve seen me dance. You know I’m bad.”

“That’s because you’ve never had a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

“Oh, and that’s you.”

“That is definitely me.”

She shakes her head as Skipper tries to get into her lap. “I’m not dancing with you.”

“Swan.”

His lips curl into a smile, soft and pressed together before he’s showing all of his teeth. His tongue flickers behind his teeth, and she just knows how his eyes look even without being able to see them.

Charmer.

“You were being a bit of a dick a minute ago.”

“Was I?”

“Definitely.”

He reaches forward and grabs onto her wrist, gently tugging her up until her legs are unfolding and she’s standing next to him, the boat warm against her bare feet. Killian intertwines are fingers with hers and pulls her flush to his chest as his left hand settles on her waist, inching closer and closer to her ass.

“If this was an excuse to touch my ass, you could have just done it.”

  
  
“Please,” he groans, “I’m more of a gentleman than that.”

“You keep saying that, but I know for a fact you’ve been staring at my boobs all day.”

Killian tilts his head back with his laughter and quickly spins her around before she settles back in her position from before. “You’re wearing a thin white bikini. It hides exactly nothing. What did you expect me to do?”

She tugs on the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s long enough to be able to flip and flow now, and she kind of likes it. It makes him look handsome in a boyish kind of way, and really, she’d be okay if he didn’t cut it for awhile.

As if that’s any of her business anyway.

“I expected you to do exactly that.”

He chuckles and keeps swaying with her as Jack and Diane still plays and the water shifts underneath them. “You’re something else. You know that?”

“I am aware of my greatness.”

“Do you remember,” he chuckles, “about three years ago, when we all took a boat off the water, and David and Liam thought it would be hysterical to push everyone off and into the water when they were least expecting it?”

“Yeah, but after two people, we were all definitely expecting it.”

“True, but it didn’t keep you from getting tossed in.”

She gently slaps the back of his neck. “Hey, if I remember correctly, that was your fault.”

  
  
“Only partially?”

“That’s how I remember it.”

“Partially my ass,” she laughs, tilting her head up to look at Killian. “You were in on it with them. You called me over to get me to help putting sunscreen on your back, and I was doing it, David picked me up and threw me in.”

“What makes you think I was doing anything other than protecting my skin from the sun?”

“Because you had just put some on. I remember.”

“No, no. I don’t think that’s what happened.”

  
  
“That’s exactly what happened!”

Killian hums and spins her around again. She nearly trips over Skipper, but he dodges her before coming back to lick her leg.

“I don’t recall that happening that way, so that must mean I’m right.”

“You’re not, and I’ll forever hold that grudge against you.”

“Add it to the list, darling. Add it to the list.”

The song starts dying out, and another one starts. She doesn’t recognize it, but its tempo is slower and softer. It’s peaceful, and if she hadn’t moved from her towel, she could easily be falling asleep right now.

“I miss when Liam was like that,” she whispers. “He used to be so carefree.”

“Liam has never been carefree. He’s worn the weight of the world on his shoulders for his entire life, and it’s rare that he doesn’t feel that or that he doesn’t have a stick up his ass. I love him, but he can be a righteous ass.”

“Hey, I feel the same way about you.”

Killian’s hand tightens in hers, but then it loosens, the iron grip gone.

“Hey, Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you help me put some sunscreen on my back?”

“Yeah, sure, I – oh my God.”

In the blink of an eye, she’s being lifted off her feet and over Killian’s shoulder so that the only thing she has a view of is his ass and Skipper panting.

She is going to murder him.

“Well, I’d wait until you got in close with the Sheriff before you committed a crime like that.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“You did indeed, love.” He pats her ass and then starts walking toward the other end of the boat. She could get down if she wanted to. She knows that she’s strong enough and that Killian would let her, but she’s honestly kind of curious to see if he actually has the balls to do it. “I bet the water feels great.”

  
  
“Why don’t you dive in and see for yourself?”

“I think I’m going to let you go first.”

And then the bastard tosses her in the ocean.

So he does have the balls to do it.

The water’s cold when she lands in it, and salt water ends up her nose. But she doesn’t stay under for long. She’s not necessarily scared of the animals that live in the ocean, but she’s not fond of the idea of getting eaten by a shark or stung by a jellyfish either. So she quickly swims back to the boat and climbs up the later until her likelihood of dying is at a minimum. That’s always something she’s aiming for.

As soon as she can see clearly again, she scans around to try to find Killian. He’s not anywhere on the boat, and Skipper is standing at the edge loudly barking. Emma turns her attention that way, and finally, she sees a mop of black hair emerge.

Huh, he really did jump in after he tossed her.

“How’s that water feel, Jones?”

“Refreshing. You didn’t want to stay in?”

“Not really a fan of getting eaten by a shark.”

“You do look like shark bait.” He pulls himself back up and sits beside her, nudging his shoulder into hers. “Did you really not see that I was going to throw you in the ocean the moment I brought up that story?”

“Oh, no, I did. You’re not sly.”

“So you think, love. So you think. What do you say we finish our lunch now?”

“I’ve been thinking about that ever since you interrupted me. I’m surprised there’s even any left with Skipper on board.”

“He’s like his owner. He has better taste than onion rings.”

“He’s also like his owner in that he smells like a wet dog.”

Killian chuckles and wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulder, pulling her in to kiss her cheek. “It’s best you get used to it since you’re stuck with us for the rest of the day.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

-/-

The sun sets while they’re still out on the water. The vibrant blue sky fades into the most brilliant shades of orange and pink that mix together like only an expert painter could do. Emma see sunsets all the time. She works during them, and she’s got a perfect view of the ocean from her office and from all of the dining halls, but she never sits and watches. It’s the same sight almost every night, the same mechanisms happening in the sky, but there’s always the slightest difference depending on how many clouds are scattered in the sky or the upcoming weather.

Tonight, it’s perfect, and Emma can’t help but stare as she sips on a bottle of water and perches herself on the bow with Killian. His skin is already darker than it was when they set sail this morning, a tan now totally covering him and sharpening all of his features. Meanwhile, her freckles are all more prominent, but overall, she’s the same color except for the red on her cheeks. It’s been a good day, she thinks, even if there have been a few times where Killian has gotten a little short with her or zoned in and out of conversations. Maybe he’s got something on his mind that’s bothering him, but he would tell her. That’s what they do.

Rule number one and all that.

“I much prefer the sunrise to a sunset,” he suddenly says.

“Aren’t they pretty much the same?”

He drags his foot in front of him before pulling his knee to his chest. “The colors are different, just barely, but if you look at it enough, you can tell. Milah was a painter, and she would always talk about the subtle differences. I never noticed until her.”

Emma’s breathing stutters, but it quickly returns to normal. The only time Killian has ever mentioned Milah by name was the night of the fourth because she was having an absolute meltdown over seeing Neal. She knows he only did it to help, to share something to show that he understood, but really, it made her feel so damn guilty.

His girlfriend died, and then he found out she had this entire other life.

Emma can’t…she can’t imagine how he dealt with that, but then again, he and Liam picked up their lives and moved to another country after it, so maybe he didn’t deal with it too well. And yet, here he is still talking about something she loved to do because he still loves her. He didn’t say that, but Emma knows. She gets it.

So maybe his point did work. They do understand each other.

“I also am partial to how quiet it is in the mornings,” Killian continues. “I’ll be on a run or have Skipper in the sand, and the only thing I can hear is the chirping of the birds of the crash of the waves. It’s peaceful. You don’t get that a lot of times when the sun is setting.”

“What about right now?”

“Now,” he sighs, “is pretty perfect, too. You ready to go back home soon?”

“In a little while. I think maybe I need to appreciate the peace while I can.”

It’s midnight by the time Emma sets foot on solid land again. She’s exhausted, but it’s the good kind where she can feel it in her bones and in her smile. Skipper runs ahead of the two of them to the car, jumping in as soon as Emma opens the door, and Killian settles into the passenger’s seat as Emma turns the key in the ignition and starts driving back to her place.

“Where are you going?”

“My place.”

“Oh.”

Emma turns to look at him and watches him twist in his seat. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Can you drop me and Skip off at home? I’ve got an early day tomorrow, and I’d really like to get as much sleep as possible in.”

“Um, yeah, I can do that if that’s what you want.”

They drive in silence for the few minutes that it takes to get to Killian’s place, and when she puts her car in park, ready to turn it off completely, Killian leans over and presses his lips against her cheek. “Goodnight, Swan. I’ll see you later.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

His hand moves back and forth with the vacuum, guiding it under the couch to try to get up dust that’s accumulated before moving to the baseboards. When was this last time they cleaned these? They’re disgusting, and Killian doesn’t know how he let it get like this? He always cleans these, keeps them from getting to be like this, and yet it looks like they haven’t been touched in at least six months.

Six months.

Bloody hell.

How did he let this happen?

The whirring of the vacuum gets louder when Killian pushes it up against the wall, and he’s definitely going to break it if he keeps forcefully holding it like this. But the damn dust and dirt won’t get sucked up, and he has to fix it. It can’t stay like this.

If the rest of the apartment and the offices downstairs are going to be clean, Killian needs this to match.

Why didn’t Liam pick up the slack since Killian has obviously been too busy fucking Emma to remember that he has responsibilities and a life and order to keep?

He tugs on the cord to try to move further down the wall, but all of the sudden the whirring stops, and when he glances over at the outlet, he can see that it’s still plugged in.

Today would be the day that his vacuum stops working. Go figure.

Groaning, Killian puts the device down and moves to change the plug, seeing if maybe an outlet simply went out. It doesn’t work in either plug, and when Killian tries it in another outlet altogether, he’s still disappointed.

“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath. “Dammit, dammit _, god-fucking-dammit_.”

“Talking to yourself again?” Liam asks as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps as quiet as they always are.

“The fucking vacuum broke, and we need to clean our baseboards.”

Liam waves him away. “I’ll look at it later. I’m sure it can wait.”

“I’m cleaning now. I don’t want it to wait. I’ll take the damn thing apart myself.”

“Are you honestly this cross at the handheld vacuum breaking? It’s not that big of a deal, Killian. That thing has to be decades old. We’ve been needing to buy one that wasn’t from a secondhand store for ages.”

Killian grinds his teeth and flexes out his fingers to keep himself from forming a fist and knocking the teeth out of his brother’s mouth. He knows that would be excessive. It shouldn’t even be a thought that’s at the back of his mind, and it isn’t, not really. It’s at the damn forefront.

He might be losing it a little bit.

Does it count as a win if he at least realizes that about himself?

“It’s been a long day,” Killian sighs, “and I’m trying to clean. Excuse me if I’m cross over the fact that our place needs this because no one has bothered to do it.”

Liam’s eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms over his chest while his jaw sets. “What’s this really about? The woman you’re seeing? Did something happen?”

What the hell?

Where did he get that thought from? That’s…ludicrous.

“Why would frustration over a vacuum make you think I was mad about a woman?”

“Because no one in their right mind would get that pissed over a vacuum.”

“We’re most likely going to have to get a new one, which is not something I budgeted for even if you’ve apparently been thinking about it. Do you know how expensive these are?”

“We have the money.”

  
  
“Not if we waste it!”

“My God, Killian,” Liam laughs as he turns around to walk toward the fridge, “give it a few weeks, it’ll pass.”

Has Liam lost his bloody mind? And is he really about to put on another pot of coffee right now?

Why does that make Killian so damn furious?

“And what, pray tell, will pass?”

Liam picks up the pot and waves it around. “Your infatuation with whoever you’re sleeping with. It’ll pass, and then you won’t be getting pissed off like this about whatever it is she’s done.”

  
  
Killian swallows and puts the vacuum down before he breaks it even more, and really, what would be the harm in that? He desperately wants to do something like punch a wall – or maybe Liam’s face – but maybe he can hold this rage in until he can get out onto the beach and go for a run until his legs are burning so much until they’re on fire.

Skipper shuffles next to Killian’s feet before settling down on top of them. Of course.

Maybe the dog will hold him in place so he doesn’t punch Liam.

“How could you possibly know that I’m seeing someone?” Killian seethes, unsure why he’s actually asking Liam this. He doesn’t honestly care for his answer.

“That’s how it’s been for a long time. I don’t know why this girl would be any different, especially since you’re hiding her away from all of us like you usually do with the others.”

He’s not.

Not technically.

And really, that’s the problem.

Well, one of the million he’s thought of since he left Emma last night.

Fuck.

Why did he do that? Why didn’t he let her come up to his apartment with him? Instead, he dismissed her, pretty much told her to go home without any question, and she wanted to come up. He wanted her to as well even if his intention was to stay away from Emma.

But deep down, he wanted her to stay even if he didn’t give her an opportunity to.

Even if it was just to sleep. That’s probably all that would have happened with how tired the two of them were, but it wouldn’t have mattered had they fucked. That’s what they’ve been doing after all, as per their agreement. Hell, they slept together yesterday morning, and it was…well, it felt like hell of a lot more than fucking, and Killian is not okay with that. He’s not here for anything other than casual, and he’s especially not here for something more than casual with Emma.

They’ve gotten too close, too comfortable.

No, scratch that. He has. It’s all on him.

He’s the one whose hand reaches for hers when they’re driving to get lunch, and he’s the one who dipped his head down to kiss her in greeting the other day. It was just the one time, but that was enough. He’s the one who is showing more than a friendly affection when he shouldn’t be showing her anything close to that outside of sex. Even during, there should be limits.

Obviously, he wants to take care of her when they’re intimate. She’s Emma. She’s his friend and a person and someone he cares for deeply, but limits.

There have to be limits.

Killian has blown those limits out of the water, and he doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do.

Break vacuums, apparently.

“My business is not any of yours,” Killian finally barks at Liam. He steps away, moving Skipper off his feet, and picks up the vacuum to put it in the storage closet. He’ll deal with that tomorrow. “You’re so bloody nosy about everything that I do. I’m not your child. I’m your brother, and I don’t know if you know this, but I’m not a lad anymore.”

The coffee percolates in the pot, and Killian can smell it now, warm and inviting and everything this conversation is not.

“I simply want you to be happy, little brother.” Killian grits his teeth. Now is not the time to nitpick Liam’s inane name for him. It’s never going to stop. “Is it so bad for me to wish that you would stop pursing relationships you know are nothing more than temporary?”

“More than temporary?” he scoffs. “When has anything in my life ever been more than temporary? It’s not that simple for me. You know what I’ve been through and what I’ve lost! Even things I thought were forever were gone in the blink of an eye!”

“That woman lied to you. She was not who you thought she was.”

Do not punch Liam, Killian reminds himself. Do not.

It would feel so damn satisfying, though.

“I loved her,” Killian says quietly, the rage still boiling just below the surface. “That doesn’t change. A hell of a lot of other things changed after she died and after I found out the truth, but that didn’t change the core of our years together. I’m not bloody like you or like Elsa where I can trust myself to be with someone and not screw everything up, so excuse me if I’m not interested in something that’s more than temporary!”

“You know what, Killian,” Liam begins as the coffee maker quiets, “I think you do want something that’s more permanent, and that’s why you’re pissed right now. You’re pissed at me, which I probably deserve for being a bloody ass to you, but I think you’re angrier at yourself because whoever this girl is, you’ve realized you might want something more with her.”

“I’m going for a run,” Killian hastily says. “I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight, so don’t wait up.”

“Killian – ”

“Let Skipper out if he needs it. I’ll make sure I’m here to run him in the morning since that always seems to be such a big inconvenience to you.”

And then he’s grabbing his keys and his wallet and slamming the door behind him. he doesn’t even have on the right shoes or clothes to go for a run, so before he sinks into the sand, he slips of his socks and his shoes and decides that if he can’t run, he might as well go for a walk. Maybe the ocean will calm him and bring him some kind of peace, but he doubts it.

It’s usually his safe haven, the place that keeps him centered, but he keeps running that conversation with Liam over and over again in his head. Liam’s right. Killian knows that he is, and he hates it.

Liam has always been right about Milah, but Killian has never wanted to admit that. He still doesn’t, and he certainly doesn’t think that he can admit to it now. Instead, he focuses on other things, on the one other thing that has been going over and over in his mind for the past few days.

He has feelings for Emma, who has been the best friend he’s had in quite possibly his entire life, and he absolutely cannot go there.

He’ll fuck it up.

He knows that he will. He hasn’t had a stable relationship in over half a decade, and Emma is not the woman he needs to try again with.

She deserves better than him, always has. She deserves someone who will know how to treat her well and who won’t screw her over and screw everything over because they don’t know how to handle their emotions. Emma has been through enough in her life. Her childhood was more screwed up than his was, and her relationships as an adult have been no better.

How could Killian possibly do any better than Neal?

In the end, he’d fuck it all up just the same even though he would never want to hurt Emma.

“Shit,” he mumbles to himself before sitting down in the wet sand.

The moonlight reflects of the water in front of him, silver strands of light mixing in with the deep indigo of the water, and the waves calmly crest before waning, a push and pull that never stops. A breeze joins in, lowering the mid July temperatures to the point of a chill, but Killian revels in it and the way that he can feel it in all of his bones.

The ocean is true and unfailing. It’s always there, even if the colors change and the creatures that reside below migrate, and for a moment, Killian is seventeen years old and in England, sitting on a chair in Brighton with Liam beside him because he was home for once. There aren’t a lot of good memories from Killian’s upbringing, not after his mum passed away, but that day was one of the good ones.

No fears or complications.

No warring brothers.

No warring mind.

“You know, if you’re looking for a place to hide out, I don’t think the beach in front of a lit country club is the place to do it.”

Killian chuckles and twists his head around to see Emma walking toward him. He really doesn’t need to see her right now, but God, if it isn’t good to actually see her.

The string lights hanging above the club’s deck are still illuminating Emma, creating a golden halo around already golden hair, and he barely manages to look away in order to scan down her body. Her dress is long and flowing, hitting right above her ankles, but the floral material hugs the rest of her so that he can see the curves that he knows every inch of better than he knows the marking of the scars on his hand and the ink sketched into his skin.

Stunning.

“I honestly did not realize I’d circled back to here.”

“How? Are you drunk?”

“I am completely sober.”

He hears her laugh and the rustle of fabric before she’s sitting down next to him and playfully bumping her shoulder into his.

That’s the other thing. Even if he could be the partner Emma deserves, she’s likely got no interest in anything other than being his friend and fucking when she’s in the mood.

Not that he minds either of those things. He agreed to them both, and it’s worked out quite well until he allowed himself to slip and develop feelings that he has no business having.

And yet he can’t get up and walk away right now. Sitting with her is the only place he’d like to be.

It was before. It is now.

It’s simply different.

It’s a frightening thought to think that the one who is ripping him apart is also the one who can stitch him back together, threading the needle so carefully that he won’t be left with scars this time.

Those are a hopeful man’s words, though, because he can already feel the scars inking themselves into his skin. He guesses he’ll have to learn the new ones too.

“Are you playing hooky from work?”

“Nah. We’ve got a dinner going on, and they’re in the middle of their main course. They won’t need me for a little while.”

Killian hums and leans his hands back behind him. “The impeccable Ms. Swan, catering to the elite of Storybrooke since 2011.”

“My dream job, obviously.”

“What’s your real dream job, love?”

“Inheriting millions of dollars and never working again.”

Killian’s head tilts back with laughter, and he glances to the side to see the moonlight catching off the side of Emma’s face. It’s so damn similar to last night that his heart aches.

But no, he’s pushing those thoughts away. He’s pushing them away and ignoring them and choosing to think that for a little while, things will be alright. He’s lying to himself, but that’s alright for now.

“Okay, but if you absolutely had to work for a living,” he prods, genuinely curious now.

“Well, I don’t know,” Emma admits. “I kind of lucked into this job. I was a waitress, because that’s all I’m pretty much qualified to do since I barely got out of high school with a degree, and Mary Margaret took me under her wings and helped me get promotions. It’s not bad here. I like it most days. I could go for a different boss, but it’s nice. Nice pay, mostly nice hours, even nicer free food.”

“Ah, that’s why you stay then? The food.”

  
  
“Absolutely.” Emma toes her sandals off and drags her foot through the sand next to his. She absentmindedly touches his leg, and a shiver runs down his spine. He tells himself that it’s the breeze and the water, but he’s apparently not that good of a liar today. “But really, I don’t know. For awhile, I wanted to be a social worker to help kids like me, but I realized that would be too painful for me. I’ve never really had a goal, but I kind of like where I am. Maybe I’ll figure something out in the future.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What about you, KJ? Being in business with your brother the dream?”

“The Navy was the dream, but this is probably second or third best.”

  
  
“Third?”

“Well, yeah, I wanted to be in a band as a teenager, and I think I still hold out a little for that.”

Emma laughs beside him, her head tilted back so her hair flows off her head, tips hitting against the sand. “You know, I can see it, but I can’t decide whether or not you’d be a John Mayer type or a Freddie Mercury.”

“Well, I guess I’d have to try for us to find out.”

“I will be front row at every show. Promise.”

Killian swallows the lump in his throat and turns away from Emma. Every time he looks at her, there’s a twist in his gut. He can’t decide whether or not it’s painful or not, but even if it is, he keeps craving it.

Craving her.

He shouldn’t.

This has to break the rules of their agreement, these feelings. They never said, not explicitly. So maybe they don’t, not if he always puts the friendship first.

Not if he doesn’t allow himself to go too deep.

“What are you doing out here?” Emma asks him after a minute or so of silence between them.

“My bloody vacuum broke.”

  
  
“And you thought you were going to find the parts to fix it here?”

His eyes roll. “I may have gotten a tad…heated, and I need some fresh air.”

“Note to self, don’t get between Killian Jones and his vacuum.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Emma’s foot brushes against his leg again, and this time he doesn’t bother slowly moving away.

“I get off in about an hour. You want to go to the Rabbit Hole?”

“Drinking on a school night, love?”

  
  
“I’m a rebel like that.”

  
  
“Don’t I know it?” He nudges her shoulder, and his hand reaches back behind him until his fingers brush against hers. She takes his hand, and he lets Emma be the one to twine their fingers together. “I can’t tonight. I’m afraid I need to go home and apologize to my brother.”

“You two have it out about the vacuum?”

“Believe it or not, we did.”

“Wow,” Emma laughs, squeezing his hand, “that is something else, but you know, I’d never keep you from having to apologize. Maybe another night then.”

“Definitely.”

Killian pulls their hands up and presses his lips over her knuckles, ignoring the sand.

She’s so light tonight, these past few days really, and he could never imagine ruining that.

Ruining her. There’s no way in hell they’re going to get out of this unscathed, and he can’t stomach the thought of hurting Emma.

“You should get back to work, love. It’s going to take you awhile to get all this sand off your ass.”

“Well, hopefully no one will be staring at my ass, so they won’t be able to tell.”

  
  
“It’s a damn good ass, Swan. And in that dress? People are definitely going to stare.”

She scoffs and lets go of his hand to stand up, brushing her hands across her ass as the sand falls off. Killian stands as well, brushing off his own sand, but he knows he’ll immediately be taking a shower after this, so it’s not all that important.

“You going to stare at me walking away as I go back to work?” Emma teases, her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You know that I am.”

“I’ll put a little extra sway into it for you.” She smiles and then presses up on her toes, her soft lips gliding against his for one second and then another, each of them blending into the next until he doesn’t know how long it’s been. But then she’s pulling back, her breath as heavy as his is, but unlike him, she’s got the softest smile on her face. “Goodnight, KJ. I’ll talk to you later.”

  
  
“Goodnight, love.”

And then she picks up her sandals and starts walking away, her hips swaying a little more than they normally would.

Dammit if he’s not half in love with her, and dammit if he doesn’t want to stop before he gets all the way there.

Killian watches her go until she’s standing underneath the string of lights and then disappearing inside the club until she’s nothing more than a face in a crowd of people who are laughing and drinking spirits while paying a copious amount of money to eat small plates of dessert.

And then he walks back home, focusing on his breathing with each step, and when he makes it up into the apartment, Liam is sitting on the couch in the dark, the television lights flickering across his face. He doesn’t acknowledge Killian, so Killian quietly walks into the kitchen, grabs two beers out of the fridge, and then settles down on the couch with Liam despite the fact that he definitely doesn’t have all of the sand off of his ass.

When he holds out the bottle to Liam, he takes it, clinking it against Killian’s before taking a sip.

“It’s your life, Killian,” Liam says. “It’s not mine, and I have no right to push you into things you don’t want to do. I judge your relationships too much, romantic and otherwise, and I need to stop because the last thing I want is to push you away. God, I mean, if it’s not with whoever this woman is, it’s with Emma. I don’t know why I’m such an ass toward her. I know you’re friends. I just – I guess I thought I once saw you look at her the way I look at Elsa, and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Too late for that.

“Emma’s a friend,” Killian says as he tilts the bottle against his lips, “and you are an ass to her. She knows it, too. She thinks you hate her, and if that’s the reason why…God, Liam, you can’t hate every person who has the ability to hurt me.”

“I know. You’re right.”

  
  
Killian raises a brow. “Are you sure you weren’t drinking too much before I got home?”

“No,” Liam laughs, “no, I wasn’t. I’m serious. I’m sorry about tonight and every other time I’ve been a wanker. Emma doesn’t deserve it. You don’t. I should be better.”

  
  
“I’m sorry, too.” Killian takes a long, cold sip of his own drink. “Thank you. And you’re right, you know? About me running from anything serious. I do run from any kind of commitment, and I’m not sure I can stop that.”

“When you find the right woman, you might just figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Killian sighs, sinking down into the couch, “I hope you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say how amazing all of you are? 😘


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“Okay, so I would recommend doing a buffet. I know a lot of people stupidly think that’s tacky, but it’s not. That way you have a constant flow of food and people aren’t sitting down waiting. The one thing you don’t want is people tapping their foot waiting for you two to be done with pictures so they can eat.”

“Do pictures take that long?” Liam asks.

“Oh my God, Liam,” Anna sighs through the phone, “we have been over this. Yes, pictures do take that long. This is a special day, and you’re going to want to remember it from every possible angle. Plus, you have to have pictures with family and friends, and it’s not a simple thing with a one, two click. Don’t you ever listen? I feel like you have to listen. You better be listening when my sister is trying to talk to you. She deserves a man who listens.”

“Anna, take a breath,” Elsa sighs.

“I don’t know how you’re planning a wedding with this man. I feel like I have to keep repeating myself.”

“You know,” Emma murmurs, rolling her eyes at Elsa, “there is also the option to have all of the pictures done before the actual ceremony. A lot of couples are doing that now. You can have private time with each other so that Liam isn’t seeing Elsa for the first time in front of all of these people, and it can also streamline the time between the ceremony and the reception.”

“But that first look during the ceremony is so special!” Anna whines. “You don’t want to miss out on that.”

Elsa looks up from her phone to look at Liam, and they seem to have some kind of silent conversation. Emma meets with different couples several times a week, sometimes several times a day, and while she’s used to there being questions and disagreements, she’s not used to have the bride’s professional event planner sister asking a million and two questions over FaceTime.

It’s fine, really. Anna is lovely, but she’s _a lot_ to deal with. Emma is so used to spending time with Elsa and it being calm and soothing, so this is throwing her for a bit of a loop.

At least Liam is being nice. He’s been…kinder lately. Emma should question it when he usually likes to be a bit of an ass to her, but she’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Why did she just think that phrase?

Why is that even a phrase to begin with? Who is looking a horse in the mouth? Why is it a gift?

“I think taking pictures before the actual ceremony sounds nice,” Elsa finally says, “and so does the buffet. Do you have servers or is it self-serve?”

“We have servers so people aren’t sticking their hands in the food.”

“Perfect. Can you remind me again of the contingency plan for if it rains?”

Elsa and Liam spend another forty-five minutes talking about different options and scenarios with Emma, most of that time spent talking with Anna and listening to plans, but eventually, they’ve covered everything they can and are ready to leave. Emma’s got an appointment with another couple in fifteen minutes, so when Elsa and Liam walk out of her office, she expects them to walk away and go back to work.

She decidedly does not expect Liam to linger around.

“Did you forget something?” Emma laughs, leaning against her doorframe.

“Oh, nothing big. Elsa simply forgot to ask if you were going to bring a date. Anna’s got her obsessing over making sure the envelopes are all addressed correctly, and for some reason she was tripping up over yours.”

“I promise you that I will not be weirdly offended if you guys give me an envelope that says Emma Swan instead of Emma Swan and guest. And tell her not to stress about that stuff. If someone gets offended over how an envelope is addressed, you probably don’t want them at your wedding to begin with.”

Liam chuckles and leans down against the arm of the chair that sits outside she and Mary Margaret’s office. “So, no date?”  
  


“Eh, I don’t know. I’ve still got a month. Maybe I’ll magically fall in love again. Or at least meet a cute guy who would look good on my arm. Or, hey, maybe I can take Killian. He’s a good dancer, would be a hell of a wedding date. I feel like we should probably be each other’s default wedding dates at this point, you know?”

Liam’s smile falters, but it’s just for a second. If she wasn’t used to having to try to read him, she wouldn’t have noticed because just as quickly as it falters, the smile reappears. “He’s seeing someone, you know, so who knows? He might take her.”

“The same someone?” Emma asks before she can stop herself.

“I think so. You still don’t know who she is? I mean – you know, never mind. I told Killian I would stop interfering with his personal life, and I meant it. I can’t keep going behind his back and trying to get information from his friends.”

Emma arches a brow, and she takes a deep breath. Her heart is racing all of the sudden, and she desperately needs it to calm down.

Is this why Liam is being nicer? Because he and Killian had some kind of talk about Liam being too much into Killian’s business? She knew they got into an argument, but how does that translate to her?

Fuck.

Did Killian tell Liam that she was the one he was sleeping with?

No, no, that wouldn’t make sense. Then Liam wouldn’t be asking her if she knew who it was. He can be invasive, but he’s not about to go all FBI or something on her. And Killian wouldn’t do that. It’s against their rules.

“I think that’s probably a good idea on your part,” Emma sighs, pushing off the doorframe. “I don’t know if I’m bringing a date or not yet. Tell Elsa to stop freaking out over the little things, and if Anna gets to be too much, I’m always here to talk about the practical side of things.”

  
“Thank you for all of this, by the way.”

“It’s my job, but I’m happy to do it. Now go, Elsa is waiting on you, and I’m sure Killian is tired of manning the office by himself.”

“Please,” Liam laughs, “he and Skipper are probably enjoying the silence.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t going to say that. I’m technically supposed to keep my clients happy. Once I’m off the clock, though, all bets are off.”

“I understand. Goodbye, Emma.”

“Bye.”

Emma waves him away, and as soon as he turns the corner down the hall, she sees her next couple. They’re early. They almost always are, and she thinks they might have the same enthusiasm as Anna does…if not more since they ask for yet another tour of the entire grounds because they’re just not sure of what exactly it is that they want yet.

It takes some kind of herculean strength not to scream since this is the fifth tour she’s given them, and their wedding isn’t until next July.

That’s a year that she has to deal with them.

A year.

Why does she do this again?

Oh, yeah, because most days it’s not that bad, and she usually doesn’t go down the wormhole that is thinking the entire wedding industry is a sham and wondering why people get married in the first place.

Is it for the wedding or the actual marriage?

For at least half of her clients, it’s only for the wedding. She’s obviously not some kind of expert on healthy relationships and only does this because she isn’t qualified to do much else that will pay her this well, but at least she knows that it’s fucked up.

When she finally gets the Taylors out of the club, Emma sighs in relief.

And her stomach growls.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, but she hasn’t eaten all day. Damn, she could go for whatever it is they served for lunch in the dining halls today, even if it’s probably cold right now. Emma checks her phone to make sure she doesn’t have any emails or last-minute appointments, and then she heads down the hallways and through the nearly empty main dining room to get to the kitchen.

Her phone dings in her hand, and she stops walking to look at it.

**Killian:** Why is my brother asking you if you’re bringing a date to his wedding?

**Emma:** He said something about Elsa being worried about how to address the envelope.

**Emma:** Wait. How do you know about that?

**Emma:** Did he tell you that I said I was bringing you? Because I was joking? Kind of. I don’t actually have a date or plan on having one, but you would technically be the most fun date of anyone in the city.

**Killian:** Why, Swan, are you asking me out?

**Emma:** Shut up.

  
 **Killian:** I would love to go with you, for what it’s worth. I promise I’ll be a better wedding date than your last one.

**Emma:** That’s not much of a bar you have to leap over.

**Emma:** Do you want to get dinner tonight? I get off at seven.

She waits for the little bubbles to pop up immediately like they have been, but they don’t. Emma doesn’t think anything of it and stuffs her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and starts walking toward the kitchen again only to see Neal and his dad sitting at the table closest the kitchen entrance.

Dammit.

She should have gone through the back doors, but this way was closer.

What the hell is he doing here?  
  


This is where she works.

Yeah, it’s a public place (if you pay a ridiculous member’s fee, which they unfortunately pay), but something being a public place doesn’t mean he can show up whenever he wants to.

This is her space, not his. They broke up, and there’s got to be some kind of unwritten rule that he simply doesn’t show up to her place of work.

He’s already always at Granny’s, which is bad enough, and then there was the fair and the one time she saw him when she had to go to Target for some new pillows.

But this? This is different?

They could have lunch at fifty different places, and the asshole knows it.

He also knows that she’s just spotted him because he’s staring right at her.

Shit.

Does she turn around and walk away or does she walk straight toward them, ignore them, and then head into the kitchen where she hopes Neal has the decency not to follow her in?

Emma doesn’t really get to make the choice, though, because Neal is standing from his chair and walking right toward her, the smile she used to love plastered on his face.

Was it always that disturbing? Did it always look so much like his dad’s?  
  


“Emma,” he calls out. She bites her tongue. She cannot say anything dumb here. It could get her fired. His family are members here, and she doesn’t think Regina is going to give her a pass because of her personal business with them. In fact, she knows that she won’t. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Wonderful,” Emma says. It’s not a lie. She’s not doing wonderful at this particular moment, but in general, she’s a lot better than she was the last time she was this physically close to him. “Are you enjoying your lunch? Is there anything that I can get you?”

His head tilts to the side, and his smile widens. “Oh, come on, Ems, you don’t have to be in work mode with me. We’re friends.”

Emma grits her teeth and takes another deep breath. She’s sure everyone in Storybrooke can hear them. Her dentist is going to be thrilled. “We are not friends, Neal. You ended any chance of that when you started sleeping with someone else and started working with your dad again. We’ve been over this, and I really don’t feel like repeating myself again.”

“You’re not still mad about that, are you?”

Seriously.

How is this the same man that she fell in love with? Was she blind to all of this? To how absolutely inconsiderate he is about so much?

“I don’t let you take up that much space in my head anymore, but you can’t honestly believe that I’m just going to forgive you for all that you did.”

His eyes roll. They actually roll.

He’s the one who fucked up, and he’s the one who is trying to act like they’re friends. Yet he’s also the one who’s exasperated by her pushback.

What an asshole.

“It’s not like you waited around long after you ended things before you started fucking Jones? And come on, you always told me there was nothing going on between the two of you, but that’s obviously bullshit.”

What the hell?

How does he…no, there’s no way that Neal could know. No one knows, and there’s no way Neal, who never paid any attention to the little things in her life, could know.

“I’m not sleeping with Killian,” she lies, “and even if I was, it would be none of your business since it would have happened after I left you.”

“I saw you two walking around at the fair, and he got fucking defensive over it when I suggested it to him. He didn’t say it, but come on, it’s pretty damn obvious.”

Emma swallows the lump in her throat so she can focus on her breathing. It’s the only thing she can focus on right now so she doesn’t punch Neal and knock all of his teeth out.

What an asshole.

How dare he confront Killian like that? Why did Killian not tell her?

You know what? It doesn’t matter why Killian didn’t tell her. What matters is that Neal is the worst.

“Neal,” she says slowly, her teeth grinding, “you lost any right to know who I am or am not sleeping with the moment you fucked someone else, so please, unless you need something from the club that only I can give to you, leave me the hell alone.”

He blinks, almost like he’s taken aback by her, and his smile falls.

Good.

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

She opens her mouth, a curse at the tip of her tongue, but there’s a voice in the back of her mind that’s telling her this isn’t worth it. He’s not worth it. She’s got to stop letting him take up so much space in her head like she said she’s not. He doesn’t deserve it.

So, not for the first time, she walks away from Neal.

She walks away, knowing there’s only a half of a chance that he’ll bother to follow him, and she heads toward the kitchen. It means that she has to pass Neal’s dad, and she can feel his eyes on her.

The thing is, she doesn’t care.

That part of her life is over, and she’s not going to lie to herself and say that a part of her doesn’t still hurt and won’t hurt when she has to see Neal and Tamara, but she can’t keep dwelling on it.

This summer has been strangely good, and maybe it’s not all that strange since she’s cut Neal out of her life.

“Emma,” Harry, their head chef, exclaims when she walks into the kitchen, her heartbeat racing, “I’m just about to start dinner. Do you want something in particular?”

“What did we have for lunch? I can’t remember the schedule.”

“Pasta salad.”

“Do we have any of that left?”

“In the fridge. Feel free to help yourself.”

Emma picks up a cookie from the half-empty platter next to her. “You know that I will.”

“A cookie before dinner? Are we celebrating something?”

Emma laughs and takes another bite. “Just having a good day is all.”

  
  
“Well, kid, I hope that continues for you.”

-/-

“Hello?” Emma calls out as she pushes open the front door of Jones Brothers’ Boating. The obnoxious as hell bell goes off, so everyone downstairs should be able to hear that someone has come inside, but no one comes out of any of the offices, not even Skipper.

Huh.

“Killian,” she says as she starts walking down the hallway. “KJ! Are you around?”

There’s still no answer, and when Emma checks the back offices, there’s no one in any of them. She decides to walk up the stairs to the apartment, but when she tries to turn the knob, she realizes that it’s locked.

She’s got a key, could easily let herself in, but if the apartment is locked, that means no one is home.

Where the hell are they?

Emma pulls her phone out of her back pocket and hits Killian’s name. It rings once, twice, several more times, and then his voicemail message comes up.

Well, damn.

This is probably why she should have called first, but Killian never texted her back about the two of them getting dinner. He’s almost always free, and if he isn’t, they’re usually plans she can join in on, but he’s obviously MIA tonight.

Emma swipes through her phone again and calls Elsa.

“Hello?” Elsa questions.

“Hey, Elsa. Have you heard from Killian today?”

“He’s in the back of the ice cream shop. Do you need him?”

“Why is he in the back?”

Elsa groans, and then Emma hears some kind of curse that definitely didn’t come from Elsa. “One of my machines broke today, and when Leroy couldn’t fix it, Killian said he’d give it a go. I don’t think it’s working out for him. Hold on. Let me get him for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have – ”

“Killian,” Elsa yells, her voice booming through the speakers, “Emma is looking for you.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

Well, that sounds pleasant.

“I’m pretty sure she could hear that,” Elsa laughs.

“Aye, I know. I didn’t text her back about dinner. Give me the phone.” There are a few hushed murmurings, and then Killian’s voice comes in clearer. “Sorry, love. I’m afraid I can’t get dinner tonight.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I’ll pick something up and bring it to Elsa’s.”

She hears him click his tongue, and she’s probably imagining things, but she swears that he’s silent for a few seconds too long. “You don’t have to do that. We can do it another night.”  
  
“It’s really not a problem. I’m at your place right now, anyways. I can get us salads from Zoey’s. Does that sound good to you?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s fine. I’m not really sure when I’ll have time to eat.”

“Well, maybe my brain power will help us figure out how to fix the machine.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You okay?” Emma asks, suddenly worried she’s overstepping here.

Does he not want her to come over?

No, that would be ridiculous.

“I’m perfect, love,” Killian sighs, his voice audibly more upbeat now. “I’ll see you when you get here, aye?” 

“Yeah, see you when I get there.”

-/-

Elsa’s store is a mess.

Well, the front is still perfect. All of the round tables are clean and perfectly in their spots, the black and white as classic as it always is, and Elsa is still serving customers and doing custom orders for cakes and birthdays. She’s on the phone when Emma walks in, but she smiles and nods to the door that leads to the back of the store.

It is decidedly not perfect.

Mostly because it looks like Killian has taken one of Elsa’s machines apart piece by piece and he has no idea how to put it back together.

His hair is pushed off his forehead, sticking in at least thirty-seven different directions, and his t-shirt is sticking to his skin from his sweat.

He might be the only person to ever sweat here since it’s usually the coldest place in town.

Elsa’s air-conditioning bill must be insane.

“Hey,” Emma greets, putting their salads down on the table and walking up to Killian, pressing up on her toes to kiss him. He doesn’t kiss back at first, but then he’s there, his lips softly sliding over hers while his hand settles on her hip, squeezing her. “I’ve come to your rescue with food and another set of hands.”

“You’re my savior, love.”

“I know.” She kisses him again, this time much briefer, before sitting down on one of the chairs Elsa keeps back here. “Where’s Liam? Why is he not helping?”

“I’m better with fixing things. He’s manning the shop.”

“No one was there when I stopped by.”

  
  
“What time was that?”

“A little after seven.”

Killian nods and pulls his salad out of the bag. “He was taking Skipper out. Thanks for this, by the way.”

“Not a problem. You think you’re going to be able to fix this?”

“I think I’m nearly there. I’ve tested it out a few times, but it’s all been for naught. Elsa is going to bloody kill me if I keep giving her hope and then take it away.”

Emma pulls their salads out of the bag, taking the lid off hers and pouring some dressing on before putting the lid back so she can shake it. “She’s got the other machines, though. Can’t she still make flavors?”

“Aye,” Killian sighs as he starts tinkering with the machine, “and she’s got a pretty good stock of all of the flavors. It’s not an emergency, but she wanted me to look at it before she called someone to come fix it. It apparently does not come cheap.”

“Look at you coming to the rescue. Getting those brownie points.”

“And access to the freezer.”

“That will balance well with our salads.” Emma stabs some lettuce with her fork. “You will never guess who was dining at the club today.”

“Cindy Crawford.”

“What?” Emma laughs as she takes a bite. “Why would Cindy Crawford be there? Also, that is the most random guess.”

Killian pokes his head out from behind the machine. “You said to guess. You didn’t say it had to be reasonable.”

“Okay, a reasonable guess then.”

“August Booth.”

“No, but that would be interesting. Is he back in town?”

“I have heard the rumor. So, who was dining at the club today?”

“Neal.”

Killian drops whatever tool he’s using, and it bangs against ice cream maker before clattering against the floor and landing near her foot. “Fuck.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Emma laughs, kicking the screwdriver back to him. “But, you know, it wasn’t that bad. He was an asshole, of course, but it felt kind of good telling him to fuck off. He told me he thought we were sleeping together, which he apparently told you at the fair.”

“Uh, yeah, he did mention that. I denied it, of course.”

“He was always jealous of you. I don’t know why, but he _hated_ when we spent time together.”

“Well, love, I am devilishly handsome. That’s bound to make any man jealous.”  
  
Emma rolls her eyes. She can’t see Killian’s face, but she just knows he’s smirking. “None of our actual friends have picked up on it, so there’s no way in hell Neal actually would. He doesn’t pay enough attention to me, never has.” Emma takes another bite and slams her hand down on the table. “But you know what? I don’t care. He can do whatever he wants, because I’m moving on. I’m happy and busy and life is pretty damn good even if I do have to take you as my date to your brother’s wedding.”

She keeps eating, waiting for Killian to say something, to tease her really, but she just hears him muttering to himself as he keeps working.

“You’re still cool with that, right? I know you said you’d love to, but you know, if you start dating someone else, go with her. I don’t mind going by myself.”

Killian pops out from behind the machine and walks toward her, leaning over the table and placing a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. “There is no one I’d rather go with than you, love.”

“You don’t have to. Seriously. You know our deal.”

His beard scratches over her forehead, and he pulls away. “I know. I’d still be honored to go with you.” He sits down across from her as he opens up his salad. She gets distracted watching him. The lighting in here is all fluorescents, and it shouldn’t be flattering, but Killian’s tan still shows up, his eyes are still ridiculously blue, and there’s still something so charming about his smile. She watches it as it falls into a flat line, almost curving down into a frown, but then she sees the curve tick upward. “I’m glad you’re happy, Emma. I’ve always wanted that for you.”

She nods, unsure of what to say. “You too, KJ. You know what would make me extra happy?”

“What?”

  
  
“If you could steal me some of Elsa’s birthday cake ice cream later.”

“Your heart’s desire, love. That’s all I want you to have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have officially finished writing and editing this story, and considering it took me three months to get around to writing the last two chapters, that's saying something! Haha. When I set out to write this story, it was supposed to be finished in May 🙈🙈
> 
> Better later than planed than never, right?


	14. Chapter Fourteen

This place is decidedly more cabin in the woods than Killian was expecting.

  
  
Well, if the cabin in the woods was a bloody large cabin made for groups of people in Maine looking for a weekend away from their regular lives. When he looked at the link Anna sent him when they were planning this trip, he didn’t look past the specifics of price and how many bedrooms there were.

So when he pulled up and saw the two-story cabin with its wraparound porch and large, floor-to-ceiling windows nestled near a lake, he was a little taken aback. Mostly, though, he doesn’t understand how the owners of this place decided to make every wall wood paneling and for each damn piece of furniture to be made out of a log or pine or something that looks like it’ll put a splinter in his ass when he sits down.

Hell, he’s pretty sure that he’s going to turn the corner and there’s going to be animal heads hanging from the walls.

At least there’s sunshine and clear water and all of the food and alcohol that a man could ask for.

Or, well, that could be asked for by a joint bachelor and bachelorette party that Elsa and Liam wanted, the both of them insisting that they needed a weekend away and that it should be nothing like the beach…so naturally they’re spending it on a lake.

Anna seemed to think it was all a brilliant idea, and since she is so keen on planning things, he figured he’d let her do it instead of getting into arguments over it. Or, well, he might have been distracted when she called to talk about the trip because Emma was on her knees in front of him, and he wasn’t paying attention to anything other than the feel of her.

“Why do I feel like every time I turn a corner, a deer’s antlers or something are going to poke me in the eye?”

Killian chuckles and turns to Emma next to him. She’s got a large duffle bag hanging over her shoulder, and he doesn’t know what she packed, but it must be all of the contents of her closet.

“Because you probably will.”

“Okay,” Anna shouts as everyone keeps walking through the front door, chatting and dragging in suitcases and looking around, “I have had all of the bedrooms labeled. Elsa and Liam get the master, obviously. Mary Margaret and David have bedroom one on the first floor, and Kris and I will take bedroom two, which shares that bathroom. Will and Belle, bedroom three, which is at the end of the hall just down that way. Ariel and Eric, you have bedroom four, which is right at the top of the stairs and will share a bathroom with Ruby and Mulan’s room, which is bedroom five. The final room is, like, basically the attic. Emma and Killian, you guys get that one. It may or may not be the kids’ room, so don’t be surprised if there are bunk beds up there.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Killian mutters. “Bunk beds? We’re twenty-eight. We don’t get our own regular beds?”

“Do any of the couples here want to give up their private rooms with big beds to go sleep in the attic in bunk beds so that Killian can have a queen mattress?”

  
  
“For fuck’s sake,” Killian laughs, rolling his eyes at Anna, “the beds are fine. I simply wasn’t aware Emma and I were going to be punished for not having significant others.”

“Yeah,” Emma joins in, “we should get compensated in, like, first choice of food tonight.”

  
  
“I think Elsa and I get that,” Liam says. “You two will be fine. I’m sure the beds will be comfortable, but Emma, lass, as someone who lives with Killian, you might want earplugs. He snores.”

“Liar.”

Liam shrugs, bright smile on his face. “Have some mercy on the poor girl, Killian. Try not to be too loud.”

Killian opens his mouth to keep protesting, but then he snaps it shut. There’s no point. He doesn’t snore, and Emma knows that. Why should he care if everyone else thinks he snores? He’s sure that half of the people in this room do anyways.

This is Liam’s weekend.

If he reminds himself that enough, maybe he won’t try to pick at everything Liam says and does, and they can all have a good time like they’re supposed to.

Even if he does have to sleep in a damn bunk bed.

Emma elbows his side. “I have ear plugs, but that was mostly because I was scared I’d have to sleep next to David and Mary Margaret.”

“Please don’t put that image in my head.”

“We’re in a cabin full of couples, KJ. How is the image not in your head?”

Killian groans and tilts his head back, and Emma laughs, nudging him again before adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go put our stuff up. My legs are stiff from the drive, and I’m ready to go hiking.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Anna squeals, “I have sunscreen and bug spray for everyone who forgot it. I’ll leave it in the kitchen. Let’s all meet up in half an hour, okay?”

“Anna is…very organized,” Emma sighs as everyone begins walking in different directions looking for their bedrooms. “I feel like she’s a very intense version of Mary Margaret.”  
  
“That’s exactly who she is,” Elsa laughs, walking next to Emma up the stairs, which leads them to a hallway with more wood paneling and more large, paneled windows. There are no animal heads yet, though, so Killian would count that as a win. “I think she wants everything to be so perfect for me that she’s taking it overboard. Plus, she’s used to working with all of these extravagant people, so this is kind of out of her wheelhouse. You’re just lucky my cousins couldn’t come this weekend, because that would make it even worse.”

“She’s doing a great job. With this and the wedding. I mean, the wood paneling here is a little much, but this is beautiful.”  
  
“Hey, I could have helped plan this,” Killian protests.

Liam, Elsa, and Emma all laugh at him.

“What?”

“If I was a betting man, I’d say the only thing you planned was the food and the alcohol.”

“And to that,” Killian laughs, “I’d say you were right. If I had gotten my say, I would have found a place with one more bedroom so that Emma and I weren’t sleeping in bunk beds while everyone else got normal rooms.”

“I mean, technically,” Elsa says, “I think there’s another bed in David and Mary Margaret’s room, but I think you two might be safer upstairs.”

They get to the end of the hallway where the master bedroom is, and Elsa and Liam tell them that they’ll see them in a few minutes before walking inside while he and Emma turn to find the spiral staircase that leads up to the attic. It’s beautiful, but it’s not exactly convenient when carrying luggage, but he and Emma manage to get their stuff upstairs without any kind of disaster.

“Those stairs would be horrible if you’re drunk. I feel dizzy just getting up here.”

“Aye,” he sighs, dropping his bag and looking around the room.

It’s small, just a set of chairs, a dresser with a television, and then, indeed, a set of bunk beds covered in red plaid bedding. In the center of the room is a round window, and when Killian looks out it, he has a direct view of the lake and all of the surrounding hills and trees.

He imagines none of the other rooms have a view like that.

“Wow,” Emma whistles, “a view like that will almost make you think the lake is better than the beach.”

“Never,” he laughs, looking at her to his side. “I like my salt water and my sand too much to ever give it up, but it is stunning.”

“I can’t wait to get to explore it. It’s so damn nice not to be working this weekend. I haven’t had an actual, multiple-day break in months, and I’m taking full advantage of it.”

Killian nods as he keeps looking out the window. He sees two people walk out onto the deck, and he believes it’s Ruby and Mulan. It’s hard to tell from here, but then one of them walks a little further out and he recognizes Ruby’s red shirt. They must be ready to go already. He needs to change into a different pair of shoes.

Turning around, Killian moves to grab his bag only to see the last seconds of Emma pulling down a sports bra. She’s in nothing but a pair of black shorts and a white sports bra, and dammit if she doesn’t drive him mad like this.

He’s grown to know the curves of her body more intimately than he ever thought he would, and that’s how he knows that she’s been running more this summer and that places where she was once soft are the slightest bit more firm and how he knows the way her skin has changed from a creamy white to a shade or two darker, all of her freckles showing up more and more.

It’s how he knows that if that’s all she’s wearing today, he’s going to struggle holding it together in front of all of their friends.

He doesn’t know what to do when it comes to Emma any longer.

He wants her all the damn time, but his traitorous mind keeps telling him that he wants her in a way that he hasn’t had her: where there are no rules or implications or anything even closely relating to the friends with benefits situation they’ve got going on.

Where Killian can get it out of his mind that Emma kisses him in greeting now, how she intertwines their fingers, how she finds a way to touch him even when they’re not alone. It’s subconscious, he thinks. She’s not doing it on purpose, not seeking him out like she would a boyfriend, but it’s still happening.

(It matters not he is also guilty of doing the same things.)

It’s messing with his mind, with his heart, with everything.

And all he knows is that he feels like he’s betraying her because what Killian feels for Emma is far more than friendship, and he has no idea how to deal with that without mucking it up.

Especially because he can’t seem to stop being with her.

Their first rule was to keep the friendship at the center of everything, to make sure that neither of them messed it up, and the more time that passes, the more time that he thinks he’s barreling them toward disaster.

But he can’t stop.

“You gonna just keep staring at me like that?” Emma teases as she ties a jacket around her hips.

“I don’t believe I was staring.”

She chuckles and saunters toward him until she’s standing toe to toe with him. Killian glances away from her face, but that only leads his gaze toward the top of her breasts and the freckle that seems to be calling him.

Not now, not now, not now.

“Oh, you definitely were.” Emma presses up on her toes and runs her lips across his jaw. God, this is another one of the things about her that drives him mad, and he has to focus all of his attention on his breathing to keep himself from becoming too aroused. “Later,” she whispers. “I really do want to go on this hike, and I’m not going to let you distract me, Jones.”

  
  
“I thought you were the one distracting me.”

“Eh, it goes both ways.”

And then she’s pulling away with this bright, kind smile on her face, and he has no idea how she can go from seductive to friendly all within the span of five minutes.

“See you downstairs. I need to get Ruby to braid my hair, so I’m going to go ahead and go.”

“She’s out on the deck with Mulan.”

Emma nods, grabs her phone, and then walks out the door.

This weekend is going to be bloody torturous.

-/-

If Killian had to guess, he would say that David and Liam have gotten them lost somewhere in the middle of the woods despite the fact that they’re all following a trail.

Or, well, supposed to be following a trail.

At one point, Anna and Elsa got distracted by this flower bush, and once they veered off the path to look at it, wondering if they could get Elsa’s florist to change her bouquet arrangement, they all started veering on and off the path, especially since there are twelve of them out here on a trail that really only allows two people to walk side by side.

If someone had brought alcohol on the hike, he imagines at least half the group would be lying dead in a ditch by now.

Honestly, Will usually has a flask on him, but as far as Killian knows, he hasn’t pulled it out yet.

Damn.

Killian ignores David and Liam arguing and keeps looking ahead. Emma and Mary Margaret are directly in front of him, now leading the group, and he tries to focus on the ground instead of the way Emma’s ass is nearly on display from the way her shorts are riding up. She hasn’t paid him much attention since they started the hike, and he’s never been so thankful to be left alone, if only for a little while.

He hasn’t been able to run all week, and this is exactly what he needed, even if the quietness of nature is cancelled out by everyone talking.

“I’m not kidding,” Ruby chuckles. “It’s awful. I mean, I get it, these are teenagers who are getting away from their parents for a little while, but do they have to make out in booths that I have to clean? There are so many places they could go, places where I don’t have to look at them while I’m trying to do my job.”

“We’ve made out in those booths.”

“That’s different, and you know it.”

  
  
“Why? Because you’re the one who is getting a little action?”

“Exactly.”

“Granny’s is a fucking popular make out spot,” Will adds in. “There’s the hallway that connects to the B and B, which has seen more action than Killian has all summer.”

“Oi,” Killian scoffs, turning around to stare Will down, “mind your own bloody business.” 

“Sorry, mate. I couldn’t resist.”

“You know who I keep seeing there?” Will continues. “Neal Cassidy. I know he’s dating Tamara, but damn, you’d think they could go to one of their places every once in awhile.”

Killian cringes, nearly faltering in his step, and he finally looks up to Emma, who is simply continuing to walk.

Good. That’s good.

She told him that she was over Neal, that she’s letting it go, but you don’t love someone for that long and have them break your heart and not be affected when someone is talking about them.

“Will, shut up,” Belle hisses.

“Why do I need to – oh fuck,” he mutters. “I’m sorry, Emma. Please ignore me and that bloody wanker.”

“It’s fine,” Emma shouts back, not turning around. “Neal has nothing to do with me anymore. He can do what he wants as long as I don’t have to look at him while I’m eating my onion rings.”

“I’d never make you do that,” Ruby tells her. “I’ll kick him out.”

“Can you even do that?”

“Eh, I can try.”

“Look,” David interrupts, and they all stop to stare where he’s pointing. “There’s that damn split tree. That’s where we were supposed to be going.”

“How do you even know that?” Liam grumbles.

“Because I noticed it on the way up. We’ve been here before, so it we turn that way, it should take us back to the house.”

“Can’t we use our phones to check where we are?” Killian asks only to have both Liam and David glare at him. “Okay, okay,” he backtracks, holding his hands up, “I guess we’re not using technology to make our lives easier.”

By the time they’re back at the house, Killian’s skin has been kissed by the sun, his feet ache, and his stomach is growling with hunger. He could really go for a nap, but Kris offers to cook burgers for everyone down by the lake, so everyone grabs their swimsuits and some drinks and heads down to where the grill is.

Killian settles into one of the lounge chairs that’s set up down there, a bottle of water in hand, and leans back, wondering if napping outside would be possible, but then Liam starts blaring music over some speakers and he knows the nap is never going to happen.

“Hey,” Emma says as she plops down in the chair next to him, “why do you look like you’re about to fall asleep?”

“Because I desperately want to.”

“How are you tired?”

“Because, unlike someone, I drove us up here and could not nap in the car.”

Emma shrugs and curls her legs up in the chair before taking a long sip of her water. “You make a good point, KJ. Do you think I’d get my hand slapped away if I went and got the bag of barbecue chips off the table before all the other food was ready?”

“Depends on if the picnic table guardian is looking over it or not.”

  
  
Emma laughs and leans forward, looking over at the table. “David seems to be occupied staring at the grill being all macho man with Kris. I’ll be right back.”

And then she’s jogging over to the table, slowing down right before she gets there, and then grabbing the big bag of barbecue crisps before springing back over to him and sitting back down in her seat, dropping the crisps between them. David looks over at them, and Killian swears that he sees his eyes narrow, like he knows Emma took the crisps off the table.

“Sneaky, love.”

“I try. I don’t know why he does that at any event. It’s like he gets some weird high off of making sure no one gets too food, but the worst part is definitely the fact that he watches to see if people throw any uneaten food away.”

“It is rather odd, isn’t it?”

“It’s the worst is what it is.”

She leans over between them and opens the bag, grabbing a crisp and taking what he swears is the loudest bite in existence. David is likely about to look over at them and give them hell for it. The man is going to make a great father one day.

If only because he can monitor food better than anyone else in existence.

Killian leans back in his chair and settles down into it, closing his eyes. He stretches out his arm, his hand laying against the arm of the chair, and after a few moments of relative silence, he feels Emma’s fingers tracing over his forearm in soothing patterns that have a shiver running down his spin and settling in his stomach.

It feels so natural for her to do this, for him to let her do this, and he should stop it.

But he can’t, not now.

Soon. He’ll figure it out.

_Soon._

“I’ve always liked this tattoo the best.”

“Hmm?”

“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” She traces the words inked into his skin as she says them out loud. “I don’t know. I just feel like it’s so fitting to have them mixed in with your scars.”

Killian fights with himself to keep his eyes closed, to keep himself from looking into Emma’s eyes. Not a lot of people get such unfiltered access to his scars, and yet here she is in the open tracing them and talking about them and yet again making him feel like maybe they’re not too bad.

“I mean,” she continues, “I like all of your tattoos. They always make me want to get more than my buttercup, but I really like this one.”

“Aye,” he sighs, deciding that just for today, he can let everything be. This is a good moment, and he’s not going to let his mind ruin it. Instead he’ll let Emma run her fingers over his hand and let her hold onto him for a few moments. “I am fond of that one as well. I am also fond of yours, though it is rather small.”

“What? Do you want me to get a giant one?”

“You should get one that covers your entire back.”

  
  
“Shut up,” Emma laughs, digging her nails into him. “I am obviously not doing that. I don’t know what I’ll do, or if I ever will. I think I’ll just stick to liking yours.”

“I like that plan. Do you think if I eat a crisp that David will hear it?”

“He hasn’t noticed me yet.”

  
  
“Ah, but you have better luck than me.”

  
  
“Guess you’ll have to try your luck to see.”

Killian slowly opens one eye, then the next, before moving his arm away to reach into the bag. He takes one bite, eyeing David who still has his back turned, before eating a few more. He thinks that maybe he’ll get away with it until David turns around.

“Jones, put the damn chips back on the table before I burn your food.”

“Sorry,” Emma says to him, shrugging, but he can tell that she’s not sorry at all.

“I think I’ll survive, love.”

When the food is finished cooking, everyone settles around tables and in chairs, eating and drinking and laughing. And it’s nice, a nicer time than Killian has had in awhile if he’s honest with himself. But then the night falls, crickets finding their places in the surrounding trees and a breeze wafting through the campground, causing a chill to travel down his spine as his skin pebbles with goosebumps.

There is a fire going, though, and plenty of alcohol being passed around to warm him, but really, the alcohol might not be the best idea right now, especially since Mary Margaret and Ruby tend to like to play games when they’re halfway to drunk.

Mary Margaret said something about how they needed to play a shower game. It was tradition, but Elsa and Liam hadn’t wanted that. Then Ruby stood up from the bench she was sitting on and declared that they would play Truth or Dare like the grown adults they are. They love their games, though, and, well, Ruby does know how to turn the game into something that is rather more adult than what he played when he was a lad. This is nothing new. They tend to do this at every party they have, but he never knows if it’s going to be tame or not.

So far Elsa has had to share some intimate details about the first time she slept with Liam, which Killian truly did not need to hear about, Liam has chugged down half a bottle of ketchup, Will has jumped into the lake, Mary Margaret has had to answer what the one thing she’d change about David would be, which resulted in a hushed argument, and Ruby has run to the neighboring house and asked them for condoms.

She came back with an entire box.

So, now it’s Ruby scanning the semi-circle they’re sitting in looking for her next victim, because, really, of all the people here, the last person he’d want to have pick out whatever form of torture this is would be Ruby Lucas.

His one glass of rum has not numbed him enough for this.

“Emma,” Ruby finally says, and Killian swears he hears half the group let out sighs of relief.

“I hate you,” Emma mutters, flipping Ruby off.

“Oh, no you don’t. You love me, and I’m going to be really nice to you by telling you that if you pick ‘truth,’ I’m going to ask you about the guy who gave you that hickey last week.”

Killian’s cheeks immediately heat, and he swallows, pushing the thought down. He hadn’t meant to do that. It had been an accident because they are not teenagers and don’t usually leave marks, and he didn’t even know it happened until Emma had sent him a picture the next day.

Shit.

At least Emma’s a damn good liar since it’s not like anyone is actually forcing them to do this.

It’s the spirit of it all.

“Dare, you asshole.”

There are a few whistles from around the group, and Killian already knows there are going to be a few follow-up questions to Ruby’s words later.

“I dare you to…kiss Jones. Killian, not Liam. And none of that on the cheek shit. You two have so much chemistry, and I _need_ to see it. I feel like everyone here needs to see it.”

“Oh my God,” he hears Emma murmur next to him at the same time that he has that exact thought. The whistles increase, some hollering too, and he swears that everyone here but he, Emma, and David are drunk off their asses. “Ruby, no. Pick something else. Like, something normal that non-tipsy you would pick.”

  
  
“You chose ‘dare.’”

“Because you were going to ask me something I didn’t want to talk about. I don’t want to kiss Killian.” She turns back to him and winces. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he mumbles, knowing she’s trying to save face.

“Why not? He’s super hot. I mean, I know you think he’s hot. You’ve said it before, and you guys kind of have that ‘will they, won’t they’ thing going on, which I have been saying all summer. We actually have all talked about getting a betting pool as to when you’ll finally get together, especially since you and the dumbass are no longer a thing. So, come on, it won’t be that bad. You’ve got to uphold the integrity of truth or dare.”

Emma’s lips part, and Killian knows she has a retort on her tongue. She always does.

But then she’s turning and leaning over her chair until she’s grabbing the collar of his t-shirt and pulling his mouth to hers.

Fuck.

Her lips press into his, soft and warm as they always are, but it takes him a minute to fully close his eyes and appreciate how she feels against him. Eyes are on them, whistles ringing out around the group, and Killian swears he sees flashes of camera lights as Emma sucks on his bottom lip and his hands thread into her hair, pulling her closer.

And for one, miniscule second, he forgets about the people around him and the warring thoughts he’s been fighting for weeks now, and he lets himself revel in how damn good it feels to kiss Emma Swan.

But then it’s over.

They part, gasping for breath, and Killian’s grip tightens on the back of Emma’s head as her forehead rests warmly against his.

Strangely, all he can focus on is the fact that she smells like sunscreen.

“Well, hot damn,” Ruby sighs, and Killian finally drops his hand from Emma’s hair, “I feel like I need a glass of water now. Anyone else?”

There’s a murmur of voices, but Killian ignores them, focusing on the way Emma is blinking at him with a smirk painted on her lips. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

  
  
“No, that wasn’t bad at all.”

“Emma, it’s your turn,” Ruby reminds her. “Feel free to do your worst to me.”

“Trust me, I plan to.”

In the blink of an eye, things go back to normal. The attention is back on the game, not on him, not on Emma, and no one says anything else about the kiss.

Apparently everyone cares about it a lot less than he thought they would.

But it was all part of a game. It wasn’t real.

None of it has been.

And he has no idea how much longer he’s going to be okay with that. He also has no idea how he could make any of it real, even if Emma wanted that, because he’s got no fucking clue how to do this.

His brain doesn’t seem to be conjuring up any ideas either.

Shit.

Eventually, the game dies down, everyone quieting and forming their own circles and conversations, and while Killian tries to stay for a little while, when the opportunity to sneak out and go to bed presents itself, he takes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you guys and however you consume and/or interact with these words! It means a lot to know they bring you enjoyment and entertainment ❤️


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the weekend away shenanigans continue!

“Do we have any more chocolate?” Emma asks, standing from her chair and walking toward the folding table where all of their food is spread out. “Or did we eat it all?”

“I think we’re out of chocolate, but there are some more marshmallows,” Elsa tells her.

  
“Damn,” Emma mutters before turning around and plopping back in her seat. “I love those, could eat the entire bag so my stomach, like, expands forever, but all I really wanted was a Hershey’s bar. Do we have the stuff to make hot chocolate inside?”

“Killian was in charge of food,” Anna suggests. “Ask him.”

Emma glances around the fire to look at the faces that are illuminated by the flames, but there’s one that’s missing.

Where the hell did he go?

“Has anyone seen Killian?”

Ruby whistles and stumbles a bit. She has had far too much whiskey, and Mulan is going to have a great time getting her into bed tonight without her flopping on the floor first.

“Looking for lover boy so you can make out with him again?”

“You, my friend, are drunk,” Emma sighs, placing her hands on Ruby’s shoulders and steering her back to her seat. “You need to stay away from the fire and the water, okay?”

Ruby falls back into her seat and sticks her bottom lip out. “Why do you have to ruin all of my fun?”

“Because you’ve had more than enough fun tonight.”

“So much fun,” Ruby giggles, resting her head on Mulan’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you actually kissed Jones.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Emma rolls her eyes and look over at Mulan, who is shaking her head from side to side. “You gonna make sure she doesn’t fall into the fire?”

“I will try my best.”

Emma nods and walks away, passing by David and Mary Margaret, who ask her where she’s going. She says to see if she can find anything to make hot chocolate in the kitchen, which is only a half truth. She does stop in the kitchen first, rifling through cabinets and the fridge to see if there’s anything good, but most of it looks like food that’s waiting to be cooked tomorrow. So she grabs a bottle of Gatorade that she is definitely going to need tomorrow and starts heading upstairs so she can grab her stuff to shower and find Killian. He’s not in the bedroom when she walks in, so she figures maybe he went back out. He was probably only gone to go to pee or something anyway.

Emma grabs her bag from the floor, shuffling through it to find a pair of shorts and a t-shirt as well as her shampoo and conditioner, and once she grabs all of it, she walks back downstairs to the hallway bathroom. It takes a few minutes for her to figure out the shower. It goes back and forth between scalding and freezing, and she eventually settles on almost-freezing, quickly going through her routines and washing her hair before jumping out and wrapping her hair in a towel before getting dressed and finishing her nightly routine.

The towel around her hair drops when she bends down to pick up her clothes from earlier today, and instead of putting it back on, she hangs it over the shower door and lets her hair fall down her back. She’ll figure out what to do with it later.

The light is on in the bedroom when she gets back to it, and Killian is now in bed, his back propped against the small headboard and his phone in his hand.

“Hey, where have you been?”

“I took a shower in Liam’s bathroom. Couldn’t figure out how to get the bloody shower in that hall bathroom to work.”

“Me either. I basically took a shower in ice water.”

Emma drops her bag, and reaches up to grab her hair, twisting it around into a bun on the top of her head. Then she turns back toward the beds, and while she could easily climb up the ladder to get to her own bed, she’s not ready for that quite yet. So, instead, she walks over to the bed, puts her knee down on the bottom mattress, and settles herself over Killian’s lap while he still taps through his phone.

Sighing, she leans down and presses her mouth against the underside of his jaw, tasting his clean skin and the scratch of his scruff before trailing her lips down to his ear, nibbling in the spot she knows he likes all while her hips gently roll against his.

“I was thinking…”

“As you say, dangerous thing that.”

She bites down, hard, on his ear, and she hears his phone lock before there’s a gentle thud on the ground. “Shut up and listen.”

He grumbles, there’s some kind of curse, but really, she has no idea what he said.

At this point in time, she doesn’t care.

“I was thinking that we’re up here, separated from the rest of the group, and while we didn’t get a big, comfy bed like everyone else, it doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.”

Emma dips her head down, nosing along his neck and down to his t-shirt, moving the material away from his skin until she can worry a mark against his collarbone. Or, at least, the beginnings of one that will fade in an hour. She doesn’t want them to get into another hickey situation with Ruby.

But when Killian doesn’t say anything, Emma looks up, settling back on her legs and looking down at Killian who is staring at her with pressed together lips and hooded eyes.

“What? Are you – ”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because then Killian is leaning up and slamming his lips into hers while his hand cups the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair and pulling her closer to him. It’s all tongue and teeth and is giving her no time to think or to set the pace on her own. She knows that she’s had a little to drink tonight, that Killian has too from the taste of rum still on his tongue, but there’s a buzzing emanating over her skin that has nothing to do with that.

It’s like she’s floating as he’s kissing her. Every inch of her body is on a high, one that she doesn’t want to come down from, and when Killian juts his hips up into hers, she knows it will be awhile before she does.

Killian tilts her head while his other hand wraps around her back, inching up underneath her t-shirt. He groans when his fingers get to the bare skin where her bra usually is, and Emma can’t help but laugh into the kiss, pulling back with a pop and a gasp of air.

“I was planning on going to sleep. Did you think I was going to wear a bra?”

“Can’t say I put much thought into it, love.”

“Really? I kind of figured you were always thinking about – ”

He interrupts her again, pressing his mouth pressed hotly against her neck while he gently flips them around. There’s not much space on the bed, and Emma’s leg slams against the wall, but then she’s managing to remove her t-shirt and settle under Killian while his mouth moves to her breast, lips wrapping around a nipple while she curls her leg around him and pulls him closer to her. She can feel his cock pressing into her through his boxers, almost exactly where she wants him, and God, it feels good. He’s heavy and thick, and she swears that her body goes even higher as her skin tingles with the buzz of anticipation of having him buried deep within her.

“Take off your boxers,” Emma gasps, scratching at his back.

“Not yet,” Killian mumbles into her stomach. “Not yet.”

She almost questions why, but then he’s moving down her body while he moves off the bed, settling down on his knees and tugging her to the edge. Emma takes the hint, lifting her hips she he can tug her underwear off and then wrapping her ankles around his shoulders.

Killian is damn good at what he does next, the warmth of his mouth pressed to where she’s aching and the roughness of his beard scratching against the inside of her thighs. She doesn’t need to tell him what to do, doesn’t need to instruct him, because he’s learned just what to do over the past few months. She’s already on edge, her body unable to stay pressed against the mattress, and her hands bury themselves in Killian’s hair, tugging on the soft, still slightly damp strands as he keeps moving in just the right direction that soon has her gasping for breath and having to mumble his name when she remembers that they’re not alone in this house.

_Fuck._

After, he takes his time trailing his lips up her leg, settling his chin against her hip and staying there while her heart still pounds far too quickly and while she can’t even out her breathing. His eyes are hooded, deep blue showing itself from the blackness of his arousal, and after pressing his mouth against her side, he starts moving up her body again, kissing every inch of skin until he’s kissing her while she adjusts her hips so that he can press into her in a slide of heat that has her burning.

“So good,” she mumbles while he slowly rocks into her.

“You’ve got no bloody idea,” he rasps as his hands settle on her hips, fingers digging into skin, while he adjusts her underneath him. “Fucking temptress, doesn’t give a man a moment to breathe.”

  
  
“You’re one to talk there.”

She can feel his laugh vibrate against her cheek, and she turns her head to capture his lips in a slow kiss as he begins moving within her and over her, pinning her to the bed. He’s warm over her, his back slick with a sheen of sweat, and she manages to press her hips tighter against him while he settles into a rhythm, slow and measured and one that she has a feeling could last forever if they wanted it to.

Right now, she can’t decide whether or not she wants this to go on indefinitely or if she’d like for him to fuck her into the mattress.

Killian seems to decide for her, keeping his thrusts slow as his lips ghost over her neck and her collarbone and then her nose, lingering there while his forehead presses into hers. She can see every eyelash, her freckle, every scar, and she’s so caught up in the feeling of him over her and within her and the subtly of his smile that her orgasm surprises her before overwhelming her, prickling at her skin in one long, slow simmer that she could definitely live in forever.

Emma’s nails dig into Killian’s shoulder hard enough to leave marks, and while he’s still pushing into her, she lets her hands fall to his lower black, pressing flat against the skin while Killian’s head falls to her shoulder, his lips pressing warmly against her. He keeps rocking into her, faster and faster until he stills and speaks something unintelligible into her skin.

Damn, Killian Jones.

Just, damn.

“And you complained about the bunkbeds,” Emma laughs as she waits for Killian to catch his breath.

“Not enough bloody space,” he mumbles before rolling off of her and standing up, grabbing his boxers off the floor and cleaning up with them. “If we mess these sheets up, someone will definitely see before we manage to get them in the wash.”

“You think ahead way too much.”

“I like to be prepared.” He shrugs and walks over to his bag, grabbing another pair of boxers and slipping them on before tossing Emma her t-shirt.

“Why are we getting dressed?”

“Door doesn’t lock, and our friends have no boundaries.”

“Ah, I have a solution for that.”

Emma rises from the bed, her legs still a little shaky, and slips on her t-shirt before walking across the room. She grabs the small chair next to the dresser and walks it to the door, propping it up underneath the knob.

“There,” she claps, “problem solved.”

Killian chuckles and settles down on the bottom mattress again. When Emma joins him, he shifts to the side, turning so she can stick her leg between his calves and rest her head on his shoulder. His hand wraps around her back, and he draws circles on her back, soothing her into a drowsy bliss that soon takes her.

-/-

Emma wakes to the extremely obnoxious sounds of birds outside her window, a constant chirping and chittering, and she should have put in her ear plugs before falling asleep.

“Oh my God, why do people like nature?” she huffs, opening her eyes and stretching her aching back only to realize that the warm body she slept next to last night is no longer there.

Huh.

This is a ridiculously small bed. It’s literally made for children. She should have felt Killian getting out of bed.

Emma sits up and reaches her arms above her head, stretching and pulling at all of the sore muscles. It’s like her entire body is on fire, and they’re probably going hiking again today. She is definitely going to need some ibuprofen or something.

Is she old in that the first thing she thinks of when she wakes up is ibuprofen?

Throwing the covers off her legs, Emma stands from the bed and reaches down on the floor to grab the t-shirt she’d put on after her shower last night and then pulls all of her hair up into a messy ponytail. She’ll have to fix that later, but from the feel of it, she can tell brushing it is going to be beyond a nightmare.

She slept with it wet without brushing through it and then Killian had run his hands through her hair, so there was really no way she was getting out of this predicament.

The door to the bedroom opens with a creak, and Killian steps inside. His hair is black with water, and he’s already dressed in a pair of black running shorts and a fitted pullover. Did he go running?

“Hey,” he mumbles in greeting, popping out an Air Pod she’s just now seeing.

Yeah, he went running.

“Good morning. What time did you get up this morning?”

He shrugs and toes off his trainers. “Early.”

“You should have woken me up. I know I’m no Skipper, but I make a good running partner even if my entire body hurts right now. My legs can be steady.”

He quietly chuckles, and she keeps waiting for him to look her in the eye and flash that smile she’s so accustomed to, but he keeps staring at his fingers as the hold onto the bottom of his pullover.

Something’s wrong.

Her superpower is going off, but it’s not…she doesn’t know why exactly she has this heaviness in the pit of her stomach.

“Swan, can I talk to you about something?” Killian asks, finally looking up at her.

Emma can see his eyes, but the smile is definitely not there.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma nods.

Killian reaches up to scratch behind his hear before he paces back and forth in the room, moving over to the window before leaning up against it.

“Look, you’re,” he finally begins, “damn, Swan, you’re fucking incredible. It’s bloody insane how good it feels to be with you. But I think it might be best for us to stop.”

It’s like she’s been slapped.

That’s the only thing she can compare it to.

She’s been slapped and punched in the gut and suddenly her legs aren’t so steady anymore.

Where the hell did this come from?

Emma opens her mouth to ask why, but she quickly snaps it shut. Killian isn’t one to mince words. He chooses them carefully. He always has. If he wanted to give her an explanation, he would have before he gave her any time to talk.

If he doesn’t want to sleep together anymore, that’s fine.

That’s what they agreed to.

There’s probably someone else. Women are always floating around him, flirting and talking and trying to make him laugh. He has to meet as many people in a day that she does, and maybe he found one that’s piqued his interest.

Emma swallows the lump in her throat and attempts to balance the toothpicks that are holding her up right now. She really needs to sit down or lean up against something, but she’s not going to budge from her spot.

“Oh, o-okay,” Emma finally sputters out, losing a bit of her balance despite herself. “If that’s what you want, that’s fine.”

  
  
“Love, I – ”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” she interrupts, holding her hand up. “It was a good arrangement, KJ, but that’s what it was – an arrangement. Either of us could end it whenever, no hard feelings.”

He nods, slowly, all while his gaze never leaves hers. She swears that she sees his jaw clench, but that could have just been an illusion, a product of her still tired mind and body.

“Right. No hard feelings.” Killian moves away from the window and walks toward her, hovering so close she can feel the heat of his body and smell the saltiness of his sweat before his lips lightly brush against her cheek, his scruff scratching soon after. “I need to take another shower. I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast, aye? Maybe do something with that mess you call your hair.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, pushing his chest so he moves away from her. “Half of that is your fault.”

He half shrugs before bending down to grab clothes out of his bag. “Perhaps.”

And then he’s walking out the bedroom door like she’s not standing here with shaky legs and a heartbeat so erratic she hopes an ambulance can get here soon.

_Fuck._

What just happened?

No, no.

Nope.

Emma is not going to let herself think about any of it. It’s early and she’s got half of a hangover, and her brain isn’t functioning. That’s why she feels so off-kilter.

It’s the half hangover and the distinct lack of coffee and greasy breakfast food in her stomach.

Coffee and food. That’s what she’s going to focus on.

With a deep breath in and out, Emma goes to her own bag, grabbing her brush and working through the knots in her hair. It’s painful as hell and takes far too long, and while it leaves her hair bushy and a little too much like Hermione Granger in the early movies, there at least aren’t knots anymore. She pulls on a pair of shorts and then some socks before gathering all of the things she needs to get ready for today.

Everything is completely and totally normal, and she is not going to act otherwise.

By the time she’s brushed her teeth and washed her face, Emma feels almost normal. Her hangover is definitely still there, the headache creeping into the corners of her head and settling there, but thankfully, she smells bacon and coffee when she walks into the kitchen. David is standing at the stove, and Emma pumps her fist when she sees pancakes on the griddle.

“Bless you,” Emma sighs as she walks toward him. “You’re making enough for me, right?”

“I know better than to be in the same five-mile radius as you and to not cook you pancakes.” He leans down and brushes his lips over the top of her head because David is the epitome of a father figure right now. All she needs now is some kind of misguided lecture on her life choices. She could actually use one of those right now. “You’re up earlier than I thought you would be. Everyone but Elsa is asleep.”

“Killian’s awake. He apparently went for a run this morning.”

“He was smart and didn’t drink as much as us, so he’s probably the only one thinking clearly.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Emma muddles around the kitchen, finding the largest mug she can find and pouring coffee in it before adding milk since there’s no creamer, and then fixing herself a plate of food. As she sits down at the counter, she sees Elsa walk into the kitchen. She doesn’t look anywhere near as dead as Emma feels, but she also probably got a heck of a lot more sleep last night and wasn’t broken up with – wait, no. That didn’t happen to Emma. She needs to wipe that thought right out of her mind and never think of it again.

This is fine.

This is normal.

This is how it has always been.

Elsa and David talk as David continues to cook, and Emma stuffs a forkful of eggs in her mouth. She needs food and to get over this hangover, and really, she is far too young to have such a bad hangover after so few drinks.

She isn’t even twenty-eight yet. She should be able to still drink and then not feel like hell afterward.

“Something smells delicious,” Killian sighs as he walks into the kitchen. His hair is now wet from his shower instead of sweat, and he’s changed into an almost identical pullover and pair of shorts.

“Thanks, mate. It’s just from a box,” David chuckles.

“Oh, Dave, I hate to break it to you, but I was talking about Emma, not your cooking. Though, it does smell heavenly in here.”

Emma feels heat rise in her cheeks and something else drop in her stomach, and she doesn’t even try to avoid Killian’s gaze. He flashes his teeth at her before winking, and it’s like nothing has changed.

Good.

That’s good, right?

Killian jokes around with David and tells Elsa good morning as he fixes his own plate. He sits at the counter next to her, and he stays there throughout breakfast, even as everyone else wakes up and stumbles into the kitchen, all in different states of distress. He stays and talks and laughs, and for a few moments at a time, Emma can imagine that everything is normal, that nothing has changed despite this pit that keeps growing in her stomach.

“David,” Elsa starts, “I have to say that you make a hell of a breakfast. Liam could learn from you.”

  
  
“Oi, what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” Liam grumbles, his mouth obviously full of food.

“That I didn’t fall in love with you for your cooking.”

“Really? Then what was it? My looks? My undeniable charm?”

Elsa laughs as she leans forward to press her lips into Liam’s cheek. “Your humbleness, honey, obviously.”

“Oh, Elsa,” Anna interrupts, “what about what you told me that one time?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“You know – ” Anna waves her fork in the air before putting it down as the room quiets, everyone suddenly listening to this conversation “ – like when you said that you knew that you loved Liam because he was the first man who had ever made you feel comfortable in a relationship. It was like he didn’t make you chase him or play games. You knew where you stood, and it was just, you know, solid.”

“Solid,” Liam repeats slowly. “I like that. I mean, I think of myself as passionate and romantic and thrilling, but I like solid too.”

“I like that my sister just told everyone something I told her in confidence.”

Liam chuckles and then reaches up to cup Elsa’s cheek, his hand covering the blush that’s painted itself there, and then he kisses her.

Emma looks away, suddenly feeling like she is intruding on the most private of moments, and as she turns her head, she catches Killian’s eyes and the hard set of his jaw as he looks at his brother.

_Solid._

_Comfortable._

_He makes her feel comfortable in way that she has never felt before, and that’s how she knew that she had true feelings for him._

Oh fucking hell.

That’s how Killian makes Emma feel, how he always has even when she didn’t realize it.

Neal used to always have her on edge. He was always playing games and making her second guess what his intentions were or if he was being truthful, and in their five years together, she doesn’t know that she ever felt comfortable.

What an utterly shitty thing to realize as she finally realizes why she has this pit in her stomach.

She’s fooled around and developed feelings for the one person who has the ability to shatter her, and he ended a part of their relationship that she’d really grown accustomed to.

It hasn’t been just sex for her in a long time, and Emma had no idea.

Maybe Killian did, though. Maybe that’s why he ended it.

He was trying to save her from herself by stopping things before they went too far.

Too late.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, yes, I 100% forgot I hadn't given you guys the latest chapter of this story, and that's on me! So here are some new words, and I promise not to take as long to put up the next chapter!

There is something about how the summer speeds up the moment August begins. It happens every year, and somehow Killian is always surprised by it. He used to think that as the summer winded down so would business, but it’s the opposite. More and more people drive into town, just itching to be able to spend one last weekend out on the water before the temperature cools and only those who want to visit the beach when it’s constantly chilled venture to Storybrooke.

This year, time speeding by is no exception even if each individual day feels achingly slow.

One moment, it was the beginning of August and Killian was spending his weekend in a cabin celebrating his brother’s impending marriage, and the next thing he knows, it’s Labor Day weekend, an entire month later.

When the hell did that happen?

How the hell did that happen?

“You’re going to run those legs straight off your body if you keep this up every day,” Granny shouts at him from her diner’s patio where she’s sweeping.

Killian slows down his pace and while he can feel the burn in his legs, he’s nowhere near ready to stop. “Your food gives me enough sustenance to make sure these legs stay just how they are.”

“It better.”

Killian shakes his head and laughs at the woman. She and Ruby are far more alike than they would ever admit.

“Good luck with the crowd this weekend. Save me some food if you can.”

  
  
“If I see Emma today, I’ll be sure to send you some food through her.”

Killian’s pace nearly falters, but he catches himself. “Sure, that would be grand.”

And then he’s telling Granny that he is sure he will see her sometime later and hopes that she has a good day. She tells him that she’ll send him a slice of her blueberry cobbler with Emma, so the woman is apparently not letting go of the fact that she thinks Killian and Emma will see each other at some point today.

It’s not a far-fetched thought.

He’s spent the last four months more attached at the hip to Emma than usual, and while he doesn’t doubt that he’ll see Emma today, it’s not going to be because she’s dropping by the shop bringing him blueberry cobbler before they share a meal together.

Killian pushes the thoughts that are beginning to worm their way into his brain out. He pushes and shoves and does everything he can as he starts back up with his run. He turns the volume up on the music already blaring through his headphones, and then he starts listing off everything he needs to do today.

Run, shower, take Skipper for a walk, open the office, work, meet everyone for dinner at Eric’s place…avoid thinking about how much he misses Emma.

Dammit.

Killian swallows and tries to go back to his list, but the bloody woman can’t get out of his head. He thought ending things with her would make it all better, that he’d get over this fascination with her that extends beyond their friendship.

Fascination.

Who the fuck is he kidding?

Certainly not himself.

He has fancied Emma for a long damn time, but she was always with Neal. That was never a line he was going to cross. He would not do something like that again, and yet, a week after she ended her relationship, he started sleeping with her like the two of them could pull that off without one of them getting hurt.

That worked out just great.

Because he fancies his best mate, and there’s no way in hell that he could get his shit together enough to give her what she deserves out of a partner.

Not that she wants that.

Emma was perfectly fine with him ending things. She didn’t even ask why.

So this is his own damn problem, and really, he’s got to be the one pushing her away so that they haven’t spent much time together in the past month. There have been times, of course, dinners with their friends and then a few nights with just them. That, however, proved to be more difficult because he found himself reaching for her hand or wanting to dip his head down and glide his lips over hers in greeting.

He can’t do those things.

He never should have been able to. It was only ever supposed to be about sex and allowing them both to get out of their own heads.

They almost slipped up once a few weeks ago.

The two of them were in New York for the Yankees game Emma had gifted him tickets to for his birthday. He almost made an excuse to not go, said he was sick or something else, nearly pretended to have Liam beg to go, but that would have been an asshole move. So he sucked it up and spent a weekend in New York with Emma. The game was fantastic, as was the dinner they had after, but the both of them had a little too much to drink, and when they got back to their hotel room – he’d only booked one because at the time, he thought it was all they’d need – there was a moment with Emma pressed back into the door and Killian’s nose dragging along her neck as his teeth nipped at her skin.

Pulling away then was nearly as hard as telling her he was ending their arrangement.

Nothing has been the same between them since, not that either of them would ever admit to it.

Because they’re friends, and everything is fine.

Just fine.

Killian runs for another half hour. He runs until his body is soaked in sweat and his shirt is sticking to his skin, completely drenched. His legs are burning, heart pounding, and he uses up all of his focus to make sure that he can steady his breathing enough to slow down and walk back to his place.

In hindsight, he should have kept running until he was to the door.

Because standing on the boardwalk that leads to Storybrooke Country Club are Emma and Graham Humbert.

The bastard has his hand on her forearm, and Killian can see from here that they’re both smiling brightly, shoulders shaking from laughter.

He guesses Emma changed her mind about wanting to go on a date with the new Sheriff since they seem to be more than comfortable with each other.

Did the man drop her off at work this morning? Is that what’s happening here?

Killian feels a sting in his palm, and he quickly releases his fist from where it’s been balled up. Angry red nail marks indent his skin, and they mix in with the scars already permanently sketched there.

This is not his place.

This is not his business.

He can’t be here.

So, he leaves, and he doesn’t allow himself to look back.

-/-

Killian doesn’t go to dinner that night.

He makes some bullshit excuse about there being an emergency with work and having to help with it, which really wasn’t his best bet when he knew Liam would question it. He manages to lie through his teeth, though, and the only person who texts him is Ariel telling him that he still owes her a donut from the bet he lost to her last week.

It’s probably the only thing that keeps him from getting drunk of his ass like he wants to. He should have gone to the dinner, should have spent time with his mates, but the thought of having to listen to Emma talk about Graham kept him home because he’s a selfish bastard who really messed up when it comes to Emma.

She’s not his. She never was.

And he cannot ignore her simply because she’s decided to live her life while he’s still holding onto what could have been.

He bloody well wants to, though.

-/-

“Your donut, milady,” Killian sighs, bending down and dramatically bowing before Ariel as he steps in front of her on the boardwalk.

It’s packed today. Most everyone in town who works an office job has off for the beginnings of the end of summer, so with the combination of them and all of the tourists, there’s barely an inch of space to walk without bumping into someone. They’ve managed to find an empty set of tables about a block down from Eric and Ariel’s place since Eric said he wouldn’t block out a section of tables for them again today, and Killian and Ariel are supposed to be saving the spots until everyone can get here for another post-work dinner.

They spend far too much time together.

He nearly cancelled, this time having a legitimate excuse, but he knew there was no way he could get away with doing that twice in one weekend.

Ariel would have showed up at his bedroom door looking for her donut.

“Thank you. I trust that now you know never to doubt whether or not I can carry twenty plates without dropping any of them.”

“Technically, I said I didn’t think you could carry them when they had food on them, not when they were empty. That’s different.”

“Eh, you didn’t specify, and I already have my donut so it’s too late now.”

“It was a two-dollar donut. I think I’ll be okay.”

Ariel shrugs and unwraps her donut, tearing off a small piece before popping it in her mouth.

“So it’s wedding month.”

“Hmm?”

“Wedding month, for Liam and Elsa. It won’t be long before your brother is a married man and you have your place to yourself. Or do you think you’ll rent it out for some extra cash? Oh, maybe Emma could move into Liam’s bedroom! I know she was talking about thinking of moving somewhere with a roommate to cut costs! You should ask her.”

Killian coughs to clear his throat and reaches up to scratch at his ear. “I’m sure Emma doesn’t want to live with me.”

“Nonsense. You two are peas in a pod. Oh, I think it’ll be perfect! Don’t charge her a high rent. That would be an asshole move.”

“I mean, I – ”

“Is that a donut?”

Speak of the devil. Or, well, the woman who he definitely will not be asking to move in with him since that is very possibly the worst idea anyone has had in the history of the planet.

Oh, wait, no. That was him four months ago when he decided to be friends with benefits with Emma with little protest.

“It is indeed. Killian brought me it. You want some?”

“Of course I want some.”

Emma walks past the two of them and settles on the picnic table next to Ariel. He tries not to look at her, mostly to avoid the fact that she’s only in a pair of denim shorts that don’t cover much of anything and a shirt that looks more like a bra than anything else, but also to avoid looking her in the eyes. She’s almost ethereal tonight, the sunset painting her hair golden, and he just knows that if he looks her in the eyes, they’ll be the color of the sea.

They shift in and out, greens and blues with little flecks of gold. He’s never seen eyes quite like Emma’s.

But then again, he’s never known a woman quite like Emma Swan.

Beautiful and broken and so much more than he could ever possibly deserve.

“So,” Ariel starts as Emma pops too large of a chunk of the donut in her mouth, “Killian and I were just talking. Wouldn’t it be brilliant if you moved into Killian’s place?”

Killian’s eyes shoot up from where he’s been glaring at his trainers, first to Ariel but then to Emma who is hitting her fist against her chest and coughing. Her face soon goes red and tears fall from the corners of her eyes, and when Ariel asks her if she’s okay, she nods and hoarsely says that the donut went down the wrong way.

He knows that she choked on the damn thing at the thought of moving in with him.

Ariel is going to be the death of the both of them.

“You okay, love?”

She nods, still hitting her chest as Ariel rubs her back. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I might just have to stay away from donuts for awhile, which is a damn shame.”

“It is. Though, that may have been more user error than the donut’s fault.”

She rolls her eyes and smiles, and Killian feels heat brush across his cheeks as his stomach swirls. This is good. This is normal.

This is them.

“I know how to eat a donut, KJ.”

“I’ve seen you scarf them down. I know that you do. Maybe you’re simply out of practice.”

“I had a donut yesterday, actually.”

“Did you now? And you didn’t think to save one for me?”

She shrugs and wipes the remaining tears at the corners of her eyes. “Graham had some in his office, and I had one. They were really good. They were from that new place down on Arch.”

And the swirling in his stomach settles to be a heavy weight.

Fuck.

How is he supposed to do this? How has Emma not told him she’s dating Humbert?

Why has she not?

Is this not…are they not…what the hell has he done to them?

“I’m sure Humbert’s donuts are wonderful,” Killian mumbles, swallowing down the long list of words he’d rather be saying.

Emma raises her brows and flicks up the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, they were. I’m sure everyone in the precinct appreciated them like I did.”

“I’m sure _you_ did appreciate them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“I said there was nothing wrong. Why don’t you take me at my word?”

“Because I know you’re lying! “

“I am not bloody lying!” he seethes, standing from his spot on the bench and running his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands until he can feel them pulling at his scalp. “I know you think you can always tell, but even you can be wrong sometimes.”

And he can be an asshole by saying that because, really, it makes him just like Neal, who never once believed Emma when she said she could read people.

She’s right, too. He is lying.

But he’s bloody well not going to admit to that now. Instead he’ll keep digging himself into a hole that he can’t seem to get out of it. Maybe he doesn’t want to get out of it. Maybe this is how things are supposed to be.

Is he really going to be a right bastard to Emma because she’s happy with someone else?

_What an absolute fucking wanker._

“You’re being a dick.” She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at him, mouth in a thin line. “Did something happen at work? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, love,” he lies again, but this time he curls his lips into the most genuine smile that he can muster. “Must be hungry or something. Didn’t mean to be an ass.”

Silence falls between the two of them, stretching and growing, and to him, there might as well not be hundreds of people around them, laughing and chatting and going on with their lives like nothing is the matter. What must that be like to not be constantly tormented by every past mistake you’ve made.

Silence between he and Emma has always been comfortable. They’ve never felt the need to fill the gaps in conversation. They can sit side by side for hours, only a few words exchanged between the two of them, and never once has he felt awkward about it. Right now, with not sixty seconds of silence passing between them, all he can do is think of things to say.

_I love you, I think._

_I want to be with you._

_You’re my best mate._

_I love you, but if you are falling in love with Humbert, I am happy that you have found happiness. I’ve said it before and will say it again: your heart’s desire, Emma. That’s all I want you to have._

Instead, he says nothing.

“Oh good,” Ariel finally says, snapping Killian out of his spiraling thoughts, “Ruby and Mulan are here, and it looks like they’ve brought take out from Granny’s.”

“Well, everyone here looks super happy,” Ruby says as she walks up, plopping the bags down on the table. “Never fear, though, I’ve brought cheeseburgers and onion rings and fries and whatever junk food you could desire. Oh, and donuts!”

“For fuck’s sake,” Killian mutters under his breath and the same time that Emma mumbles, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Well, at least they’re in sync there.

Little by little, their friends begin to trickle in as the sun slowly starts to set, casting the world in an orange glow that fades away to black, only lit by the few stars that are out tonight and the manufactured street lights. With so many other people sitting around the tables laughing and talking, he manages not to screw anything else up with Emma, but when David stops by, still in uniform, with Graham at his side, Killian discreetly excuses himself and leaves.

He wants to be mature. He wants to be happy for Emma and not be a jealous ass, but he’s not ready for that tonight. He’ll screw something up some way or another, and it’s better if he removes himself from the situation before he can do anything else.

Killian is tempted to walk along the beach and let the water hit his feet, but since it’s so crowded tonight, he decides to simply walk home. No one will be there, and he can not be bothered for a short while. Skipper greets him in the entryway of the apartment, and Killian reaches down to scratch his ears before taking him outside for a few minutes. Once that’s done, though, Killian settles on the couch with a tumbler of rum, his dog, and some reruns of Monk that happened to be on when he turned the television on.

“Your old man is pathetic,” Killian tells Skipper as he strokes his back. “A right miserable man, but you don’t think so, right?”

Skipper twists his head and lays it on Killian’s lap as Killian continues to pet him, the repetitive motion lulling him into the first sense of calm that he’s felt all night. Then the apartment door opens, and he sees Elsa walk in. Liam doesn’t follow her.

Huh.

“Hey,” she softly greets. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?”

“Keeping our electricity bill down.”

“Liar.” She walks closer to him and then sits down on the other side of Skipper. Elsa curls her legs up and wraps her arms around her legs, her engagement ring shining in the low TV light. “Look, I know that it’s been kind of wedding central for the past few weeks, and you are amazing for putting up with all of that from me and Liam.”

“But,” Killian prods, knowing that there has to be a but to whatever this is.

“But,” Elsa continues, reaching over the back of the couch to place her hand on his, “that doesn’t mean that Liam and I can’t ever prioritize you.”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, love. I’m not a child, and you two aren’t my parents. You don’t have to prioritize me. Where is Liam, by the way?”

“He and a couple of the guys went to the bar. I was tired, and didn’t want to go.”

“So you came to sit in the dark with me then?”

“No,” she corrects, wrapping her fingers around his palm and squeezing, “I came over because I wanted to make sure you’re okay. You seemed like you were upset tonight.”

Killian swallows all the biting words he wants to say before turning his head and smiling, each corner of his mouth going as wide as he can possibly make it go. He knows that it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine, Els.”

“Mhm,” she hums. “So, you’re so fine that you didn’t apparently get into a fight with Emma about donuts and then you didn’t avoid sitting next to her all night and then you didn’t get up and leave all in a huff. And you definitely haven’t been moping around and avoiding her as much as possible since the trip to the mountains. I mean, I’m imagining all of that right?”

Shit.

Like _, bloody fucking hell_.

He tilts his head and widens his smile even further before letting his lips fall closed. “Aye. I’ve no clue what you’re talking about. Emma and I are fine, like we always are.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I saw you two kiss at the store.” Killian opens his mouth, the protest already at the tip of his tongue, but Elsa holds her hand up to stop him. “It’s when you came to fix my machine. Emma stopped by with dinner, which I didn’t think anything of because that’s just how you guys are, and then I walked back to get some more blueberry delight and saw you two kissing. And trust me, I know that it wasn’t a first kiss, so would you like to explain that or should I just go on talking about all of the other times I saw the two of you in possibly compromising situations?”

In any other circumstance, he would laugh that they were found out like that. Of all of the times where he and Emma weren’t careful – like Emma climbing out of his window or them making out in the hallway of Granny’s – the one time someone saw them was when they thought they had privacy.

He doesn’t feel much like laughter tonight, though.

“Does Liam know?”

“No. I didn’t tell him.”

“He’s never much liked Emma, you know? We talked about it not too long ago. He thinks I’ve been hung up on her and that she’s one of the reasons I can’t seem to keep a stable relationship, which is such utter bullshit. He knows everything that’s happened to me. Emma has had nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t been able to stay with someone. Hell, if I’ve learned anything, she’s the only person who I even want to stay with, and I can’t. I ended it because I don’t know how to be in a relationship. I don’t know how to do any of it. And we weren’t even dating. We were just fucking, so it’s not like she even wants to be with me. _Fuck_.”

He picks up his glass of the table and downs the rest of his rum. If he doesn’t say anything else, will Elsa magically disappear so that he doesn’t have to deal with anything that he just admitted? It’s a hell of a lot harder when he has to say it all out loud.

“I obviously don’t know the full story, but, Killian, what I saw was not two people who are just sleeping together. There was love and affection there, and if you think that Emma doesn’t return your feelings, you’re a bigger idiot than I could have ever imagined. You’re the smartest man I know, too.”

“You best work on your imagination then.”

Elsa chuckles, but then he sees her moving. She nudges Skipper out of the way and off the couch until she can sit closer to Killian. “Look, I’m basically your sister now, so I get to say this.”

“That sounds like it’s going to be fun.”

“Hush.” Killian mockingly swipes his hands over his lips, and Elsa rolls her eyes. “Relationships can be hard, and I’m going to tell you a little secret: you’re never going to know what you’re doing. It’s always going to be tricky being intimate with someone else, and you’re going to mess up.”

  
  
“That’s reassuring.”

“But,” Elsa continues, and Killian forces himself to look at her again, “you saying you don’t know how to be in a relationship is a lie. You and Emma, that friendship that you have where you can talk to each other about your days and your feelings, that is a form of a relationship. You guys made it a little messy trying a friends with benefits situation, but that worked, didn’t it? For awhile, you got to have that emotional and physical connection, right?”

“Aye.”

“Exactly. And you’re perceptive, Killian. I know that you are, and I know that as time went on, sleeping together didn’t just feel like fucking, right? There was more to it than that.”

Killian sinks into the couch a little more.

He has never hated Elsa more.

He has also never loved her more.

She’s right. She always is, but now, more than ever, she is on the nose with every word.

Still, he doesn’t know if he can trust himself not to hurt Emma if she wants what he wants.

None of it really matters, though. It’s all too late now.

“I think I’ve already screwed everything up,” Killian quietly admits.

“Nonsense. What’s that annoying quote your brother always says?”

He chuckles and reaches up to scratch at his chin. “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.”

“Yeah, yeah, that one.” Elsa leans forward and presses her lips against Killian’s cheek. “It’s not easy to do something scary like admit feelings and make apologies, but when it’s for the right person, it’s worth it. One day you’re going to wake up, and these demons in your head aren’t going to be so loud. One day, you’ll wake up, and everything will just feel right.”

_Everything will feel just right._

One day.

He sure as hell hopes so.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If a summer story posts in the fall, is it still a summer story? 😉
> 
> Kidding, kidding. It's 80 outside. It's not fall until I can wear a sweater without sweating!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! We're almost finished!

The swan is staring at her.

It is legitimately staring at her from its spot on her dresser with its beady little black marble eyes. For weeks, Emma has thought it was cute, has treasured its presence in her room. It’s the only thing anyone has ever won for her, which seems miniscule, but when you don’t have a lot, it’s a big freaking deal. That night had been awful, her heart warring with her over Neal and his presence at the fair, but then she had this dumb stuffed animal to hold onto – and squeeze onto instead of slapping Neal, if she’s honest. Killian had won it for her to make her happy, even if just for a little while, and while she hadn’t realized her feelings for him in that moment, she should have.

Anyone who plays rigged carnival games to make someone happy is probably a good person, and Killian Jones is definitely a good person.

A good person who was (is, hopefully) her friend who she then started fucking who then ended that, and now she sits in her room in the dark at seven in the morning staring at a stuffed swan.

What a weird thought process.

What a weird relationship.

What a weird couple months.

When Emma looks back on it, she can’t believe this is how her life has been lately. She ended a half-decade long relationship, had her heart shattered into pieces, and then she made the stupid decision to be friends with benefits with the last person she should have done that with. Who even does shit like that?

She does, apparently.

But the night of Liam and Elsa’s engagement party, she was tipsy and upset and needed to forget the pain. Killian seemed like the perfect person to do that with, especially knowing how easily he does casual relationships. As she now knows, having a casual relationship and _having a casual relationship with Killian Jones_ are two different things.

At least when you’re her.

Now, though, she doesn’t know what relationship she has with Killian. They’re friends, always have been, but things have been…different since they stopped sleeping together. They don’t text as much, they certainly don’t hang out like they used to, and when they do, things are stiff. The conversations don’t flow, arguments fly more freely, and Emma has no idea what to do about any of it. She’s tried not to think about any of it and pretend that everything is fine, but then moments like this hit and it’s impossible. Liam and Elsa are getting married tomorrow, have their rehearsal dinner tonight, and Emma and Killian have to spend time together.

They’re going as each other’s dates.

And she feels like such a cliché at the end of a romantic comedy where people are being forced to gather at a wedding with romance everywhere, where she mopes around waiting for things to get better. That’s not real life, though. Some floral arrangements and twinkly lights do not solve relationship problems, especially when you’re not in a relationship to begin with.

Especially when the other person wants nothing to do with you.

Emma sighs and flops onto her mattress, pulling a pillow over her mouth and loudly groaning into it. She’s pathetic. This is why she hasn’t allowed herself to have any free time since the weekend in the mountains. She’s stayed busy, throwing herself into work and her runs. She’s even read the stack of books that’s been on her nightstand for months, but mostly she’s made sure to be surrounded by friends, even if that does include Killian. David and Mary Margaret, bless them and their inability to read the room, have continuously brought Graham around thinking Emma is open to dating him. She’s not. He’s a sweet man she gets along with and in another world, she might consider dating him. It’s not another world, however, and she doesn’t want to date Graham Humbert.

All she wants is Killian like the pathetic woman she is.

And for the freaking stuffed swan to stop staring at her.

After screaming into her pillow once more and kicking her legs up and down like a petulant child, Emma throws the pillows off of her and shifts from underneath her comforter. Begrudgingly, she stretches her arms above her head, her muscles aching from overuse, and she walks to her bathroom. Slowly but surely, she gets ready, spending extra time washing her hair and shaving while her phone plays music loud enough for her to sing along to. Once she feels alive again, she steps out of the shower, pulling her hair into a towel and walking to her vanity. She brushes her teeth and does her makeup, going ahead and applying the smoky eye she wants to wear tonight. She’ll look ridiculous until the sun sets, but she’s not coming home in between work and the rehearsal and doesn’t want to pack her full makeup kit. It’s the same reason she blows her hair out and curls it before pulling on a black jumpsuit. She’s had it for years, but never had a chance to wear it. It hugs her curves and flares out at the legs. There’s a cutout on her stomach and the cleavage dips, and to cover that up so she doesn’t get fired, she pulls a cropped sweater on top. An hour later, she leaves her apartment and drives through Storybrooke to get to the club.

This is just another day. Emma can make it through.

She’s made it through every bad day so far, most of them a hell of a lot worse than having to eat dinner with Killian Jones by her side.

With Labor Day over and summer beginning to fade away, tourists have fled from Storybrooke and returned to their normal lives. The beaches are empty, the restaurants barely occupied, and Storybrooke Country Club is only frequented by members who either live in the area or who avoid the main summer rush. Walking the hallways alone is odd after spending months not having a moment to herself, and since there’s no one around, Emma takes off her heels and walks down the hallway barefoot. There’s a luncheon in one of their smaller dining rooms, so Emma checks to make sure the linens and the menu are still correct from when she checked last night, and once she’s sure they are, she moves to their nicest ballroom where Liam and Elsa are having their reception tomorrow. They were going to have the ceremony inside as well, but since the weather looks like it’s going to be nice, they’re having it on the deck with the ocean in the background.

She thinks most of this place is stuffy and stuck-up, but she does love this ballroom. The windows are large and look out to the ocean, and if they open the doors, it connects to the expansive deck with string lights hanging over the ceiling. Tomorrow, when the sun sets and those lights are turned on along with the lights inside, everything will be cast in a magic glow. Emma looks around at the chairs lining the sides of the walls and the tables out, and she sighs. Someone was supposed to put everything out, and after calling around and finding no one, Emma starts arranging the tables and chairs herself. It takes her hours, especially when she starts putting out linens and setting the tables, and while florists won’t come in until tomorrow, she marks the places for the arrangements to be set. She nearly calls Mary Margaret and asks her to come in on her day off, but she likes being busy. It keeps her mind off things.

Too soon, though, she’s set up everything she can, and the cooks have started prep work for tonight’s dinner. Emma catches a look at herself in the mirror, sees where some of her makeup has run and her curls have fallen, and she grabs her work makeup bag out of her office and moves to the bathroom where she reapplies her powder and lipstick and brushes through her hair before pulling it into a high ponytail.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

“Tonight is going to be fine,” Emma tells herself, rolling her arms to relax her sore muscles and calm herself down. “It’s just like it always is. It’s spending time with your friends but in nice clothes, and you just have to get through a weekend without fighting.”

Emma stops rolling her shoulders and leans forward, fingers curling around the sink top. “Great, Emma. Now you’re having full on conversations with yourself in the mirror.”

Inhale, exhale.

She’s got this. She has to.

Emma looks at herself one more time, does a final adjustment on her ponytail, grabs her bag and walks out of the bathroom with her shoulders back. She sits through more weddings than any normal person should, and this is a weekend to celebrate someone she loves. It’s a happy moment.

Until she walks out of the bathroom, her limbs still shaky, and nearly plows down the bride and groom.

That would definitely get her fired, and she doesn’t think her year could take losing her job too.

“Hi,” she squeaks out, stumbling over her heels before correcting herself. “How are you two? Elsa, you look beautiful.”

“Oi, what about me?” Liam jokes, and Emma awkwardly giggles, still trying to catch up. She needs a reset of today.

“You look stunning,” Emma laughs, quickly hugging Elsa before doing the same to Liam. “Are you guys excited for tomorrow?”

“You have no idea,” Elsa sighs, happy, content, so many things that brides should be but rarely are. “Thank you so much for setting everything up. I know you’ve been by yourself with Mary Margaret taking the day off to do things with us, so I really, really appreciate you.”

“I’m happy to do it for you guys. Promise.” Emma squeezes Elsa’s forearm. “If you were anyone else, I would complain.”

“Well, you know how to make a girl feel special, but I have a feeling you won’t say the same thing when Anna shows up in a few minutes.”

“I have already mentally prepared myself for it.”

Elsa looks down at her phone. “Speak of the devil,” she laughs, holding up her phone. “I’m gonna step away and take this.”

Elsa moves down the hallway, heels clicking against the tile, and Emma is left alone with Liam, the two of them swaying back and forth, eyes never making direct eye connect. She doesn’t know the last time she spent time alone with this man, and at the moment, she can’t think of them ever spending time alone together. They’re not friends, have only started getting along recently weirdly enough, but they always have Elsa or Killian to be the buffer.

There’s no buffer now.

Emma tries to think of something to say, works through a conversation about the weather and the wedding and tonight’s menu in her head, but she never says any of it out loud. Instead, she laughs awkwardly and smiles, wondering how shitty it would be to excuse herself from the room when she doesn’t have an actual excuse.

“You should talk to Killian,” Liam says. Emma’s eyes widen, and she looks at Liam. He doesn’t shift away from her gaze like she was expecting. “I’m not sure what’s been going on between the two of you, but I know that there’s something. I know I’ve never been the kindest to you, but I know that you are good for Killian as long as you don’t decide to break his heart.”

Emma crosses her arms, her heart thumping under her fingertips. She wonders if Liam can hear it or see it the way she can, like it’s the third person in the conversation. “I don’t think you get a say on what I decide to do. Killian’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions. He doesn’t need you putting up some ‘holier than thou’ front to tell his friend not to get into a fight with him.”

Liam steps closer, and with her heels, she’s able to keep her gaze directly on his. “I may not know exactly why the two of you are fighting, but I do know you’re the woman he’s been sleeping with all summer.” Emma’s jaw drops, and she’s not exaggerating when she thinks it may be broken. How? How does he know? “You two should really learn to lower your voices when you’re talking in the morning. I didn’t realize until last month right before our trip, but there was one morning where I recognized your laugh and then your voice was so clear afterward.”

“I’m not – we’re not – he isn’t…”

“Emma,” Liam sighs, pressing his hand to her shoulder, “it’s okay. I’m not trying to be an ass. I know that I am one, but all I want is for Killian to be happy. And believe it or not, I want you to be happy, too. _Talk_ to him.”

Her mind is running at one hundred miles an hour, her heart beating even faster, and her cheeks are so warm they must be as red as tomatoes. She doesn’t know what to do, what to say, how the hell she’s supposed to react to any of that, so she doesn’t. Instead, she makes an excuse, something along the lines of checking on the food for dinner, and then she’s gone, disappearing down the hallway and into a linen closet.

Liam knows.

Liam knows, and he didn’t even blow a gasket. What kind of crazy alternate universe is this? Emma doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything.

(But Liam apparently knows a lot.)

She doesn’t know what to think or say or how she even feels about anything. All she knows is that she still has to make it through this weekend. She can’t spend all of it hiding away in bathrooms and linen closets no matter how much she wants to.

Rolling her shoulders back, Emma takes her seventeenth deep breath of the night, twists the door knob, and manages to slip out of the closet without anyone seeing her. By the time the rehearsal has finished – they did two-run throughs – Emma’s heart has managed to calm down. It wasn’t easy, especially when she saw Killian walking down the aisle, one of Elsa’s cousins on his arm who couldn’t stop laughing at whatever joke he was telling, but she was able to push back the attraction and jealousy and everything else that comes with looking at Killian Jones.

She’s always known he was handsome. It’d be impossible to miss, but tonight as he wears a baby blue shirt, halfway unbuttoned of course, and some fitted Navy slacks, his hair coiffed and beard trimmed, she’s taken aback by him once more. Mostly, though, she’s taken aback by his smile, bright and beaming, and her heart aches missing it.

Missing him.

She stands at the edge of the ballroom as people begin to take their seats, finding the names on cards on the table, and Emma knows where hers is. It’s at the head table, rather undeservedly so, but she’s the best man’s date. She gets to stick by his side.

Right now, she doesn’t know how.

Maybe she hasn’t managed to calm down as much as she thought she had.

Emma catches Killian out of the corner of her eye, still talking to that same bridesmaid, but then he’s walking away and walking right toward her. He flashes a smile, as bright and confident as ever, but there’s something off about it. She can’t pinpoint what, especially when his smile fades as he looks from side to side, almost as if he was searching for someone.

“Hello, love,” he greets before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you. You look nice.”

“Don’t I know it?” he teases, cheeky, before offering her his elbow. She takes it, looping her arm through his, and as her skin presses against his dress shirt, she can feel his warmth. It feels normal, like it has for so long, and while she didn’t forget how much she loves his touch, she didn’t realize how much she’s craved it, craved the new normalcy they’d found themselves in this summer. “Shall we go to dinner and get drunk off our asses as we listen to people give awful speeches?”

“I’d love nothing more. Don’t you have to give an awful speech?”

Killian leans in and winks. “Mine won’t be awful.”

And for a little while, things are normal. She’s sitting next to Killian, and she doesn’t have to think too hard about what to say or do. It’s just the two of them, like it always has been, and the glass of wine she’s had isn’t hurting how calm she feels. They don’t talk much, too much food on their plates and then too many people talking, but just as Emma is telling Killian about how she nearly broke her neck on a ladder today, that same bridesmaid as before interrupts her to start talking to Killian. Emma knows her name is Nora, that she lives in Portland, and that she has no problem flirting with Killian despite the fact that Emma is obviously his date.

But who is she to say anything? They’re here as friends.

They always have been.

Friends, friends, friends.

And the flirting doesn’t irritate her, not really, but the fact that Nora interrupted Emma in the middle of a story does. That’s rude, and while Emma doesn’t have the best social graces, she knows not to interrupt people. Emma ignores the two of them and looks out across the room. She wishes she were at the table with Mary Margaret, David, Ariel, Eric, Ruby, and all of the rest of her friends. Anna and Elsa’s parents have taken up most of the conversation with Elsa and Liam, so she doesn’t even have Elsa to talk to.

She’s miserable.

There’s no point in dancing around it anymore. She’s miserable, her feet are killing her, and she’s ready to go home and sleep until she has to get up. She’s never craved a Monday so badly.

Emma excuses herself from the table, not that anyone really listens, and she hurries out of the room with a pounding heart. She thought it had gone away, but it’s back with a vengeance, making her cheeks heat and her stomach fill with bile. This is the worst. Just, the fucking worst.

She’s in love with her best friend who isn’t even her best friend anymore, and she doesn’t know how to deal with any of it. This summer has been like a rollercoaster, except she hasn’t been buckled in. She’s been holding on with fear and exhilaration, and now, she’d like to get off the ride.

When she hears footsteps down the hall, she knows the end of the ride isn’t here yet.

What the hell is he doing here?

“Did you follow me?” Emma asks, not bothering to turn around.

“Well, when a woman runs off and seems upset, some might say following her is a good idea.”

“I wouldn’t.”

  
  
“Swan.”

Emma turns, her heels clicking against the tile, and crosses her arms over her chest. Killian glances down, and she realizes his eyes are drawn to her boobs. Typical.

“Go back to Nora, Killian. I’m fine.”

“Nora?”

“Elsa’s cousin. The woman you’ve been oh so fascinated with all night. I don’t need a babysitter when you obviously have other interests.”

Killian huffs and steps closer. “You’re my friend and when a friend leaves a room, obviously upset, I follow.”

  
  
“Well, if you’d said that a month ago, I might believe you. now, though, I don’t.”

She’s angry, she realizes. Pissed off, actually, and Killian might be here to be kind, but she’s not.

His brow arches, one followed by the other until his forehead is wrinkled, and he steps closer. “What are you talking about?”

“Really? You’re going to play that card?”

“What card?”

“The one where you pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Like, you don’t know things have been different between us since you ended things for no damn reason.”

“Why aren’t you here with Graham?” Killian asks suddenly, and she feels like she’s been slapped with whiplash. Emma isn’t sure that’s possible, but what the hell does she know anymore?

  
  
“Why the hell would I be here with Graham? You and I agreed that we would do all of the wedding stuff together, didn’t we?”

“Well, you’re dating him, aren’t you?”

“Oh my God,” Emma sighs, turning on her heels and walking down the hallway before walking back toward Killian who has got to be grinding his teeth far too much than any dentist would ever recommend.

Why is that even where her brain is going right now?

Probably because she can’t stop staring at the way his jaw clenches.

“What”? he murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest, fingers digging into biceps.

Emma stops pacing, the clicking of her heels against the tile stopping, and she places her hands on her hips as she takes a deep breath.

She’s about to fuck everything in her life up, but really, how much worse can any of it get? She can’t keep living like a madwoman, her mind contradicting everything her heart says, and for once in her life, she wants everything out in the open. She wasted too much time in an unhappy relationship because she didn’t want to speak up for herself for fear of someone else leaving her. She’s not doing that again. Damn the consequences.

It is not going to kill her to put her heat in Killian’s hands even if it means he has the ability to crush it.

“I am not dating Graham Humbert,” Emma says on an exhale. She doesn’t even know where Killian is coming from thinking that, but it doesn’t matter. “He is a new friend who I have repeatedly said I had no interest in dating, and if you could get your head out of your ass for one second, you would know that the only person I have any interest in dating is you, you absolute fucking idiot.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Killian blinks, slowly, as Emma’s words sink in. They don’t at first, and he has to repeat them over in his mind, as he’s sure he’s in an alternate universe where Emma Swan is very clearly stating she wants to date him.

(And also calling him a fucking idiot, which is valid.)

Rarely is Emma ever so straightforward with her feelings.

And a universe where he isn’t so sure he’s going to fuck things up that he might give it a chance with no hesitation.

In a way, he knows that the two of them have already given it a shot, but they were broken, battered messes then, had no clue what they were doing, and he screwed it up when things got tough. There’s no guarantee he’s not going to do that again because they’re still those same people. And Emma…well, there’s no guarantee she won’t either.

They’re a couple of bloody idiots, and he should have run to Emma’s house right after Elsa helped him get his head back on straight.

“What the hell are you saying, Swan?”

“You heard me.”

Killian taps his ear and cocks his head as Emma tilts her head back with a groan. “I need you to repeat yourself because I need you to be sure.”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

  
  
“Emma.”

  
  
“Killian.”

Emma leans forward, her eyes rolling, and in their month of awkward semi-separation, he’s forgotten how much he misses the way she rolls her eyes when she’s exasperated with him, which is nearly always.

Bloody infuriating woman who he, despite his best efforts, is desperately in love with.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, and as the seconds tick by, green eyes stare at him with a determination he knows isn’t breaking. He stares back, determined not to be the first one to falter, and in the corner of this hallway, the sounds of his brother’s rehearsal dinner muted in the background, he waits for the woman he has been waiting on for a long time, even if he didn’t know it.

But when she doesn’t falter like the stubborn lass she is, he’s begrudgingly the one to take several steps forward and cup her cheek, pressing his fingers into her soft skin as he dips his head and his lips ghost over hers, moving ninety-nine percent of the way there.

Actions have always meant more than words to Emma, but he hopes to be able to give her both.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emma whispers.

“I just really, desperately need to kiss you.”

And he does.

And it feels like so many other times that he’s kissed her before. Her lips are just as soft, her hair a perfect place for him to tangle his fingers, and everything about her is warm.

Killian’s spent a lot of time searching for home. He’s always had it with Liam, but he would be a liar if there wasn’t something missing. For awhile, he’s been thinking it was Emma even if he doesn’t know how well they fit together. There might be too many sparks hitting against each other for it to be a smooth fit, but for now, he doesn’t care.

He loves her, and he’s caught up in the way she tastes of chocolate and champagne and the way her fingers feel curling into his hair and the nape of her neck, tilting his head to guide their kiss. He was trying to do that, but it seems Emma’s decided to take charge. He allows her to do so for a bit, reveling in the familiar yet new sensations that come with kissing Emma Swan, but then he slides one hand down to her waist, fingers digging into her hip, and he pushes her from the middle of the hallway to a wall. She moans when her back hits the solid wall and his knee nudges between her legs, and the sound goes straight to his groin.

Bloody _fucking hell_.

It’s like he’s spinning, and he isn’t used to that.

Emma Swan does a lot of things that make him cover new grounds, and he can’t say he minds, not anymore.

Killian pulls away from her mouth and drags his teeth across her jaw and down her neck, and she yanks his hair until he laughs.

“Why the hell are you laughing?” she says, breathless.

Killian keeps chuckling and breathes in before pulling himself up to press his forehead against hers while his thumbs both run over her hips. Emma is definitely going to pull out his hair, and he’d rather she not do that. He’s fond of it.

“Because I love you,” he whispers, and for the first time in a long time, he means it.

To Emma’s credit, she doesn’t gasp. She doesn’t act shocked. She doesn’t run away.

(He wouldn’t have blamed her if she did considering he’s already done it once.)

(She’s had a lot happen to her in the past few months, and he’s throwing in new players into the game.)

(Hell, he might be starting a brand new ballgame.)

“I love you, KJ.”

And he swears, even though it’s impossible, that his heart stops for a moment.

She’s damn well going to kill him.

“I’m sorry for being a pompous wanker.”

“You should be.”

Killian chuckles and quickly kisses her before running his hand up her arm, resting his fingertips in the ends of her hair. “I didn’t want to end things here, like this. If it wouldn’t be barbaric and uncomfortable, I think I’d take you into the storage closet.”

  
  
“Classy.”

  
  
“I know,” he laughs, brushing his lips over her cheek. “I know. Later, yeah? We’ll talk and, well, you know.” Kilian moves his brows up and down, narrowing his eyes, and Emma rolls hers as she tries to stifle her laugh. He’ll never get enough of that, at least not for right now. “My brother is getting married tomorrow, and I need to be there for him. I also think maybe we should keep this to ourselves to let them have their moment.”

“Well, everyone and their mother kind of knows. I mean, I don’t think most of them know what we’ve been doing all summer, but they know there’s something.”

  
  
“Elsa knows.”

“Liam kind of knows.”

“I think Ruby and David might now, but they don’t know enough to confront us with more than suspicious looks and ridiculous fireside games.”

  
  
“Ariel and Mary Margaret definitely don’t because they wouldn’t keep their mouths shut if they did.”

“True.” Killian kisses Emma once more and pulls back, stepping away from her softness and her warmth. “I’m sorry, Emma. I – ”

“No, no, don’t apologize anymore. We’re both idiots, and I – I mean, I’ve been, like, the hottest mess on the planet for a long time, and I still feel like I’m catching up with…everything. I don’t – ”

“Hey,” Killian whispers, curling his lips in what he hopes is a reassuring smile, “you’re not the only one. I’m a bloody mess. I ended things between us half because I was fucking terrified of hurting you. I don’t know how to be in a relationship. I don’t know how to do any of this without screwing it up.”

  
  
“That makes two of us.”

“So, let’s not worry about it. Let’s go back to how we had things except now you don’t have to climb out my bedroom window…unless you want to.”

“Never again,” Emma laughs, kissing him, “never again. Let’s get back to dinner.”

They walk back into the ballroom where everyone is still eating dinner, and they both settle down in their seats. The conversation continues around them, but he notices Elsa look their way, a sly smile on her face. She knows, but he’s not going to say anything. This is her weekend with Liam, and all of the attention should be on them. He knows their friends well enough to know how they wouldn’t be able to stay calm or keep from pestering he and Emma with questions.

Besides, despite how fast his heart is beating now, Killian is calm for the first time in awhile. He’s wanted Emma for a long time, though it has waned in and out over the years with his flings and her relationship and him not wanting to mess their friendship up. He’s still terrified of that, but he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t give them a chance.

He’s spent enough of his life hating himself for his own shortcomings.

“Where’d you go?” Liam asks him.

“Restroom.”

“You get lipstick on you in the restroom?”

  
  
“What? Is it not my shade? I thought it looked nice.”

Liam scoffs and presses his hand down on Killian’s shoulder. “Good.”

Killian arches his brow. “I think a nice red would look good on you. I’m sure Elsa can recommend something.”

“Or Emma.”

Emma kicks his leg underneath the table, and he reaches to grab her hand, twisting their hands together.

They finish eating dinner and drinking their glasses of wine, the conversation flowing through the rest of dinner, but it’s constantly being interrupted by people coming to talk to Liam and Elsa. He can tell they’re both ready to go home even if they’re savoring the moment, but little by little, guests begin to filter out, heading home and back to their hotels. Their friends linger, making sure all of their plans for tomorrow are set, and as Killian talks to Elsa, he sees Emma and Liam hug across the room.

That is certainly a development he never expected.

“So, you sure you’re not going to be cursed by sleeping in the same bed as Liam tonight?”

  
  
“You’re so funny.” Elsa rolls her eyes. “Trust me, Anna and my parents have already had their day, but I don’t see any reason why we should stay apart. We’ll be apart for most of our wedding day anyhow, and I feel like that defeats the purpose.”

“You two could always get your makeup done together.”

  
  
“That’s a brilliant idea. I do think Liam could really rock a red lip.”

“You ready to go, darling?” Liam asks, stepping behind Elsa and placing his hand on her back.

“Yeah, I’m ready. I’m exhausted, and I’ve got to take this makeup off.” Elsa leans forward and embraces Killian. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning. Let Liam get his beauty sleep. He’ll need it.”

“I’m going to ignore that you said that,” Liam tells Killian as he hugs him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Goodnight. I’ll be coming to pick you up at eleven.”

“And not a moment sooner or you might see something you don’t want to see.”

That is not what Killian wants to hear from his brother. Ever.

Elsa and Liam walk away, and he’s left with just Emma. She saunters up to him, one side of her mouth ticking up, and wraps her arms around his neck like they belong there or something else ridiculous like that.

Or maybe it’s not that ridiculous.

“Let’s go home, sailor,” Emma whispers.

“Only in a former life am I a sailor.”

“Yeah, but I feel like it still fits you.”

“Maybe only when you say it.”

Emma winks. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The drive to his apartment is torturous with Emma’s hand pressing against his thigh, her fingers dancing up and down his leg, getting closer to his crotch each time. She continues to talk about work and the wedding tomorrow like she’s not teasing him, and Killian is determined to get back at her later when his mind isn’t so one-tracked.

…and after he lets the dog out to go to the bathroom.

“Skipper, hi, buddy,” Emma gushes, squatting down to scratch Skipper’s ears and rub his back. “Oh, I missed you. I did. You’re my favorite Jones.”

“That’s what a man wants to hear in the same night when he’s told a woman he loves her,” Killian jokes.

“Oh, don’t listen to him,” Emma tells Skipper, “he’s just jealous is all. He wants me to be petting him, and even though he’s kind of furry like you, he’s not nearly as adorable.”

“You’re killing me, Swan.”

Emma laughs and stands, pulling Skipper along with them as they stand outside. Skipper goes about his business in the little grass they have outside the office, and Emma places her hand on Killian’s back, her fingers scratching against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “Be patient,” she whispers.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t act coy, KJ.” She pokes at his back. “I know you’re about to complain about blue balls or something equally as ridiculous, but I promise you, you can wait for your dog to go to the bathroom. Because I am not cleaning that up later because you couldn’t wait.”

Killian twists and dips his head to kiss the corner of her lips. “You should clean after him since he’s your favorite Jones.”

“He does have competition.”

“Liam?”

“How’d you guess?”

Skipper comes running back to them, and Killian reaches down to pet him before they all shuffle inside and lock the door behind them. Skipper leads them up the stairs to their apartment, and Killian turns on the light as Emma moves to the kitchen to refill Skipper’s water bowl while Killian turns the AC down and strips out of his jacket, laying it over the end of the couch.

A few hours ago, he was a raging, jealous asshole who didn’t have a clue what he was doing with Emma or without Emma, and now, everything about this feels like it’s back to how it was.

Back to normal.

They might not have always had feelings for each other throughout their arrangement, but they were fooling themselves if they thought they would only ever be friends.

Killian’s unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it out of his trousers when Emma walks toward him and drags her fingers up his chest, nails scratching against skin. She spends a little time tugging at the hair on his chest before he pulls her in, placing one hand against her neck while the other is firm against her ass. And because he is tired of waiting on her, he kisses her.

There’s a lot to be said about being kissed and being kissed well, and he could write an entire book on the way that Emma Swan kisses and the noises she makes when he drags his tongue along her lips and tilts her head.

He could write an entirely different book on the way she kisses when they have a barrier between them, the both of them keeping a millimeter of distance as they put on the front that there was nothing significant burning between them when it was as expansive as a forest fire. That, thankfully, is not how she kisses now.

There are no barriers.

Killian, for all his impatience, suddenly wants to go slow, to savor each and every moment of this, but then Emma makes a whining noise that sends desire pulsing through him in a rush of warm heat that wants to be set ablaze.

He walks them back to his bedroom, his lips and his teeth working against Emma’s collarbone and she works at his belt and his trousers. By the time they’re in the bedroom, he’s left in nothing but his briefs and an open shirt. Emma is still fully dressed, which simply won’t do, but in his attempt to get her jumpsuit off, he can’t find the damn zipper.

“It’s on the side.”

“I don’t feel it.”  
  


“Right side.”

Killian groans and pulls away from Emma’s neck to find the bloody thing, and he eventually does, tugging it down until her top falls and he sees she had no undergarments on tonight. “No bra?”

“Didn’t work with the jumpsuit.”

“I must say I’m a fan.”

She rolls her eyes, but then she’s pushing him back against the bed as she strips out of the rest of her clothes. He watches, entranced by the way the moonlight and streetlights seep into the room, lighting up bits and pieces of Emma as she moves around. He wants to turn on the lights, to be able to fully take her in, but like this, he can see the green of her eyes and the warmth of her smile. That’s all that matters.

“You’re cheesing pretty hard there, Jones.”

“I’m happy.”

“I can tell.”

She slowly moves over to him, and bends down, running her lips over the ink on his hip, the dip of his muscles, the swell of his chest. She takes him in hand as she continues to trace his body with her mouth, and while he’s not sure, he thinks Emma is taking the time to map every bit of ink and every scar before she hovers next to his ear, breath as warm as she is. “I’m happy too.”

That’s when Killian grabs onto her hips and pushes Emma over until she’s flat on her back, her chest heaving. He runs his fingers over her breasts, teasing her, before he moves lower and lower with his hand while his stubbled cheek rests against her breast. The sounds she’s making are driving him mad, and he ruts into her in desperation for friction. Emma’s hips arch as he pulls her higher and higher, her breathing labored and heartbeat thrumming under his ear.

He’s so used to these sounds and her movements, and while he expected maybe something momentous would feel different this time after their kiss in the living room and how different that felt, Killian isn’t sure that it does.

Different, familiar, and everything in between. It’s he and Emma together, and there’s no use comparing it to their past when they have the here and now.

“I like the goofy smile on your face,” Emma teases between harsh breaths. “I meant to say that before.”

Killian nods as sweat beads at his brow, and he listens to Emma’s instructions as he brings her to the bliss she wants to be in. She falls with a bite of her lip and a mumble of his name combined with a particularly dirty curse, and he returns her sounds when he slides into her, feeling her warmth envelop him as he slowly rocks back and forth, allowing Emma to adjust to him. She spreads her legs wider to accommodate him, and Killian pauses to reach above them, twining their fingers together and squeezing.

“I’ve never known you to be so slow in getting things started.”

Killian mischievously bites Emma’s neck as she rocks her hips up, trying to get him to move. “You feel fucking incredible, and it’s been too long. I told you that I’m savoring it.”

“We have all night.”

“We do have to sleep. My brother is getting married in the morning, and we wouldn’t want to have bags under our eyes.”

  
  
“Those pesky little details.”

Killian huffs before sliding his mouth over Emma’s as he rocks into her, starting a rhythm he knows they both enjoy. The air-conditioner hums in the background, crickets chirp outside his window, and the sheets rustle around them. There are so many sounds and distractions, but Killian focuses on Emma’s sounds once more as she moans into his mouth. He picks up his pace and slides one hand away and down to her thigh as Emma clutches the sheets with her free hand, and she whispers muffled curses against his lips.

“I’ve missed you,” he mumbles, grabbing onto the side of her ass, Emma canting up her hips. “I love you.”

The words are still foreign on his lips, a language he never believed he’d understand again, but he means every word of it.

“I love you,” Emma whispers right back.

His pace increases, his hips moving as fast as they can against and grinding down, and she wraps her legs around his, shaking but holding a firm grip. Killian’s hand moves over, finding the place where they’re joined and moving his thumb roughly until she’s cursing his name and her love and a few impeccably Emma phrases that have him smiling even as he’s grunting, pleasure washing over him in all the best ways. He comes several moments later, stilling over Emma, and pressing a smile into her neck.

They clean up but don’t bother getting dressed, settling under Killian’s comforter. Emma rests her head on his chest, her leg in between his, and while his arm is sure to go numb soon, for now, he can’t imagine being anywhere else.

This is good.

This is so much more than good.

“I feel like such a cliché sleeping with the best man at the wedding.”

  
  
“That’s not until tomorrow, love. You’ll have to convince me to get back in bed with you again then for you to be a real cliché.”

“I don’t think that’ll be difficult.”

“No?”

Emma twists and presses her lips over the sparrows inked in his shoulder. “No. I know all of the tricks, and I also know I’m your type.”

  
  
“Really now?”

“Absolutely. I hear you have a thing for blonde pains in the ass.”

“Oh, yeah,” he teases, “then you’re absolutely my type.”

-/-

His brother gets married to a wonderful woman in a beautiful ceremony with the sun setting behind them as Elsa and Liam commit their lives to each other, and Killian is in awe of it all. He doesn’t know what his future holds, if something like that will ever be in the cards for him, but for once, that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Liam is happy, Elsa too, and the smiles on their faces never disappear even when older relatives won’t leave them alone to eat their dinner. It makes Killian laugh, especially because he can see Liam’s balled fist underneath the table, but he also feels pity for them. Emma told him how couples so rarely get to enjoy each other and their day when they have weddings like this, so he and Emma try their best to keep people away from Elsa and Liam as much as they can. Anna turns out to be the best at diverting attention, and even though she’s overwhelming sometimes, Killian is fond of her.

He doesn’t know if he’ll still feel that way when it’s Thanksgiving (an American holiday he is more than fond of now that he’s had the food) and he’s being lectured about his preparation of the potatoes, but for now, he’s glad to have her as family.

To have Elsa too. He and Liam have just had each other for so long, and it’s nice to have a little more family.

It’s also nice to have this woman in his arms that’s gorgeous in her long yellow dress that hugs her curves and dips down in the center, her head nestled against his shoulder as they sway back and forth to the music.

Today, in the small moments they’ve had together, has been bloody brilliant, and Killian couldn’t wipe the smile from his face even if he tried.

He hasn’t, even if that makes him a sentimental fool.

“You want to get out of here?” Killian whispers when most of the guests have already left, the club’s staff (not Emma tonight, thankfully) cleaning up around the edges of the room, waiting for the few stragglers to leave.

“Depends. Do you have any place to go?”

“I think I might,” he says into her hair, closing his eyes as the song winds down, all of the notes dying out before it shifts to something new and unrecognizable.

“Then let’s get out of here,” Emma laughs. “Like I said, I have full intentions of being the cliché of the woman who sleeps with the best man at the wedding.”

“And I must say once more, I am in full support of this plan,” Killian teases, moving his brows as Emma giggles and slaps his chest.

He drives around town, taking turns he usually wouldn’t take to throw Emma off on where he plans on going. She rolls her eyes and turns the volume on the radio up, her shoeless feet resting on the dashboard of his Jeep. He hates when she does that, but he won’t bring it up tonight. Tomorrow? Well, that’s a different story. Finally, when they pull into the destination, he hears Emma laugh and sees her reach down to put her heels back on.

“You going somewhere?” Killian asks as he turns the key in the ignition.

“Hand me your wallet, and I just might.”

“She’s running away with my wallet. I feel like I should know better.”

Killian reaches into his back pocket and hands over his wallet. Emma leans over the center console and quickly glides her lips over his. “Be right back.”

She takes less than three minutes inside, and since the weather’s nice out for two in the morning on a mid-September night, Killian opens the door and shuffles around to hop on the hood of his Jeep. He puts his suit jacket down next to him and takes the slushies out of Emma’s hand before helping her up to sit next to him. They make quite a pair, sitting in formal wear on the hood of his Jeep in a service station parking lot. Emma’s hair has fallen, his shirt is almost fully unbuttoned, and much like yesterday, he has her lipstick in his scruff. In any other town, they’d look crazy. In Storybrooke, this is simply another Saturday night.

“Do we have any rules for this?” Emma asks him, slurping so loudly she’s going to wake up the entire neighborhood.

“For what?”

“Us,” Emma explains, taking another loud sip. “We never really talked about it, and I don’t know – we kind of had rules before.”

He reaches over and places his hand over hers before she twists her hand and twines together their fingers. “I think we might just wing it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this story, it was early March. I’d just gotten a refund on my plane tickets to China to visit family because my flight was cancelled. The world was iffy but not insane like it is now, and while a million and two things have happened since then that made this story and other things stop for awhile, I can at least say I finally finished this story! 🎉 
> 
> I hope it brought you joy and a little summertime fun in the absence of normal goings-on, and I thank you all for your never-ending kindness toward me and the words I throw at you guys ❤️

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found over on Tumblr at [ let-it-raines ](https://let-it-raines.tumblr.com)! Feel free to stop by!


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